


talk to me, like lovers do

by littlelamplight



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Not Evil Lillian Luthor, Past Domestic Violence, Past Sexual Abuse, Smut, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 14:23:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10492788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlelamplight/pseuds/littlelamplight
Summary: Healing is never easy when you believe your suffering is deserved.Or, five pieces about a survivor of abuse finding love and softness and safety with a woman who shows her that her abuse wasn't deserved.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this began as something therapeutic i was writing for myself, but a friend of mine encouraged me to publish it, and so, here we are. for starters, the lillian in this is obviously not the same as the one on the show. magic is a thing, lena has it. lillian broke away from cadmus because she realised that she was wrong, and by the time of this starting, has been trying to redeem herself. its kinda meant to be set in an expansion/alternate of my main fic i guess. or, basically, lillian wasn't the main cadmus doctor, and the woman who was wasn't happy when she left. time passes between each 'piece'.
> 
> lara is lupita nyong'o. she is 5'5 vs lillian's 6 ft. this is important info. 
> 
> warnings for talk of domestic and emotional abuse. 
> 
> also, crack ship

 

_ sorrow _

 

Lillian listens, more than she should. Her connection to Lara isn’t like the twins’, she has to concentrate, and in theory, she should be able to ignore the woman and their bond completely, except she can’t. 

 

She’s drawn to her, this woman from the stars, this woman who whispered words of reassurance that she didn’t understand, as she lay dying, she’s drawn to this woman who is only alive because she, stupid, foolish, lonely woman, gave into Martine’s demands, let the desires of her body overwhelm the voice screaming at her, that it was a bad idea, and sometimes, she can still hear the way the witch laughed. 

 

But she’s drawn to her, inescapably, and it doesn’t help, that she understands a little about how lonely Lara must be. 

 

She has the need to check on her, and she tells herself that there is no harm in opening up her mind, in concentrating, in making sure she’s alright. 

 

This, however, standing at Lara’s door in the quiet night, is something else. 

 

She needs to be here. At least, that’s how she feels, that’s how she felt, deep in her gut, in her heart, but being here is… it’s something else. 

 

She hears a sniff, on the other side of the door, and swallows, anxious and unsure. She senses, rather than hears, Lara pause on the other side of the door, and a heavy sigh reaches her ears. ‘You don’t need to be here, Lillian’. 

 

Lillian swallows. Lara’s voice sounds tight and rough, like she’s been crying. She closes her eyes, concentrates, and lifts her hand to touch the door, pressing against the place she thinks Lara’s head is resting. ‘I know’, she says, and she does, she does know that, and there is sense of relief in the truth she speaks, ‘but I want to be’. 

 

There is a heavy sigh, and then the door opens. Lara leans her temple against the edge, her fingers curled around, and Lillian’s heart aches, to see the tears on her cheeks, her golden eyes over bright and glittering in the dark. ‘Shouldn’t you be sleeping?’ 

 

Lillian leans against the wall beside the door, and says, ‘I’ve never slept much’. Not since she married, anyway, but she’ll spare Lara those details. ‘Shouldn’t you?’ 

 

Lara laughs, a choked sound, and rubs at her eyes, dislodging tears hanging from her lashes. ‘I don’t need to, anymore. It’s apparently a benefit of these new powers’. Lara steps back, and opens the door, waving a hand to welcome her in, and retreats further into the quiet of her apartment. Lillian shuts the door behind her, and stands there as Lara collapses onto the couch with a heavy sigh. She’s wearing a ridiculously oversized jumper that falls to her knees, a deep, fern green that stands out against her dark skin, and Lillian thinks that it must belong to her son. 

 

She glances around the small apartment, illuminated by soft lamps, and says, ‘you’re alone?’ 

 

‘Yes’. Lara rubs at the back of her head, at her short hair, and sighs, ‘first time in a while, actually. Alura and Astra have been keeping me company. Kal - Clark was here’, Lara’s mouth twists, and Lillian feels a jolt of sympathy at the way Lara forcibly corrects herself, ‘but he had to go’. Her mouth twitches in a smile, and she leans her head back against the couch. ‘I don't mind, really. I appreciate what they're doing. They can understand how I feel, after all. But…’ she shrugs a shoulder, ‘it can be a little overwhelming’.

 

Uncertainty boils in her gut, and she says, ‘if you want to be alone, I can… I can go’.

 

Lara blinks. ‘No’, she says, ‘that’s not what I meant’. She frowns slightly. ‘It's… it's different, with you. You’re…’ she hesitates, and lifts her hand, her fingers curling close to her chest, ‘you're here, already’. 

 

Lillian swallows. ‘We’ve been trying to find out if there is any way of breaking our… link. Magic is… unfamiliar, to me, and to Alex. To all of us, really, and Lena’s knowledge isn’t extensive. We’re… we’re trying, but it’s an entirely new school of unfamiliar things. We’ve made little progress’. She hesitates, and then says, ‘as far as we can tell, there is no way of reversing the spell without killing one of us’. 

 

Lara nods. She looks tired. ‘I remember. It was meant to kill you, and bring me back using your life force, right? And now we’re  keeping each other alive?’ 

 

Lillian’s lips twitch in a faint smile. ‘You seem to have a better grasp on this than I do’. 

 

Despite the bloodshot look to Lara’s eyes, her smile seems genuine. ‘Magic is hardly the most bizarre thing in this universe, Lillian. I’ve seen stranger things’. She tilts her head slightly. ‘It's a primal force. It has other names’. She sighs, and seems to settle into the couch more. ‘There’s no hurry, Lillian’.

 

Lillian stares at her for a moment. She has this strange, desperate need to apologise. Instead, she says quietly, ‘I try to block you out. I try to… keep what’s… me, contained. It’s just… not something I’m used to doing. If anything that… that I've felt has made things more difficult for you, then I'm sorry’. 

 

Lara blinks. She sits up straighter, and stares at her. ‘It's not your fault that this happened to us, you know. And… it hasn't, actually. If anything it's…’ her brow furrows, like she’s not exactly sure how to word it. ‘It helps, in a strange way. It… it's a change to the tide of… well, everything I'm feeling’. Her frown deepens. ‘If you're feeling… any of what I'm feeling, I’m sorry’. 

 

The sincerity in Lara’s voice startles her. ‘You don't have to apologise, Lara. You’re… you’ve lost everything. Don’t apologise for how you feel’. She hesitates, and she wishes she knew what to do, that she was better at this, but she just stands there, her hands clasped in front of her, and all she has to offer this woman, who has lost everything, are empty words. ‘I can't even begin to imagine what you're going through, Lara’.

 

Lara tilts her head. ‘Except you can’. 

 

Lillian shakes her head. ‘It’s just… it’s an echo, Lara. It’s… I know how you feel, but I won’t diminish what you’ve lost by claiming to understand it’. 

 

Something changes in Lara’s expression, something subtle, and her shoulders droop a little. ‘Thank you’, she says quietly, and there is an unidentifiable emotion echoing between Lillian’s ribs, ‘that… that means… a lot to me’. 

 

Lillian smiles, and she feels some of the tension in her back ease. She doesn’t really know how to act around Lara, this woman who she doesn’t know, and yet does, in that place between her ribs, and she says, ‘is there… is there anything I can do?’ 

 

Lara stares at her for a moment, and when she smiles, it’s a flash of something bright and warm and entirely unexpected. ‘You could stay’.

 

‘Of course’, the reply slips from her lips with ease, and the sincerity in her voice is honest. She glances towards Lara’s kitchen. ‘Can I… can I make you tea?’ 

 

Lara blinks, and she looks genuinely perplexed. ‘Tea? Does that… help?’ 

 

Lillian smiles. ‘It’s not a remedy for anything, really, but it can…’ she shrugs her shoulders, a faint twitch, and says, ‘it can be soothing’. 

 

Lara’s smile is slow, that faint frown still creasing her brow, but she nods. ‘Thank you’. 

 

Lillian lets out a relieved breath, grateful for something to do other than awkwardly stand there. She shrugs out of her trench coat, and drapes it over the back of one of the chairs in the small dining room. ‘How are you adjusting to our world?’ 

 

Lara stands too, moving to sit at the small island, and she watches the way she moves about the kitchen with something that might be curiosity, like she’s observing the things she does. ‘Slowly’, she says, her hands pressed flat against the marble, ‘but… well. There are things here that are not so different from my world. And I’m not alone’. 

 

Lillian reaches for the tea high on a shelf in the cupboard, and says, ‘do you like lemon tea? Or chamomile?’ 

 

Lara laughs, a rich, throaty sound, and Lillian blinks, a little started by sound as it echoes around the empty apartment, surprised by how genuine the sound seems, considering the state Lillian found her in. ‘I have no idea. I haven’t tried half the things in there’. Lillian gives her a puzzled glance, and Lara shrugs. ‘I’m surrounded by three people who know what I’m going through, both in terms of my powers and…’ her brow furrows, and she seems to sag a little. ‘And what I lost. Anything here has been provided by them’. Her mouth twitches again. ‘You should see the amount of ice cream in my freezer’. 

 

Lillian shifts through the things in Lara’s cupboard again, and says, ‘have you had chocolate?’ 

 

Lara scoffs, a soft sound. ‘Kara is my niece. Of course I’ve had chocolate’. 

 

‘How about hot chocolate?’

 

‘... I’ve had chocolate ice-cream’. 

 

‘I used to make my daughter hot chocolate before bed. She suffered from frequent nightmares, and it helped’. She glances over her shoulder, and says, ‘would you like some?’ 

 

‘It can’t hurt to try’. Lara shrugs a shoulder. ‘Besides, it might help. I haven’t been sleeping very well’. Lillian raises her eyebrows slightly as she retrieves the milk from the fridge, and Lara hesitates. Then she says slowly, ‘it’s… all the sounds. Krypton was by no means quiet at night, but it’s just my… enhanced senses. I find it difficult to block all the noises out’. 

 

Lillian retrieves a saucepan, and sets the milk to simmer. She frowns slightly, leaning on the counter opposite Lara, and says, ‘I could look into that for you, if you wanted. I may be able to develop something to… muffle your hearing. Like earplugs’.

 

Lara tilts her head, a look of interest passing over her face. ‘You’re a scientist, aren’t you? You work for the DEO?’ 

 

Lillian gives her a tight lipped smile, the familiar sting of guilt twisting in her chest. Guilt, regret, they are old friends of hers, new friends, seeds that sprouted in her chest when she understood the horrible mistake she’d made, when she realised how wrong she’d been, that in her desire to protect Lena, she’d only ended up making things worse. She can still remember when that moment hit, that realisation, when Lena was clutching at her shirt and yelling at her and she’d realised how  _ desperate _ she looked, how different from the girl who curled up against her chest to sleep, and the knowledge that she was wrong rattled around in the marrow of her bones. The seeds sprouted, and grew, and those old friends live twisted around her ribs, flaring and burning, and she wonders if Lara can feel what it is like to suffocate under the weight of her own mistakes. ‘I do’, she says, fiddling absently with the lid of the hot chocolate container, ‘though I didn’t… I didn’t always’.

 

‘Cadmus?’ 

 

Lillian nods. She’s not surprised that Lara knows. It’s almost a relief that she does. At least she won’t have to witness the disgust rise in the woman’s when she found out. ‘Who told you?’ she asks, and she hopes it doesn’t sound accusing. 

 

‘Alura. There were a lot of things to explain, really. How I was alive, who brought me back, why I was brought back’, Lara’s brow lowers in a fierce frown, a glimmer of something that might be pain flickering in her eyes, and Lillian is a little startled by it, ‘why I woke up in your house. And why you were dying’. 

 

Lillian looks down at her hands again. She’s silent for a moment, listening to the milk simmer on the stove, and then she says quietly, ‘I… working for Cadmus was a mistake. But I made a greater mistake when I believed that leaving it behind wouldn’t have… repercussions. The woman who was… responsible for bringing you back was working with someone who had this… magic, and…’, Lillian feels her shoulders tighten instinctively, and her voice is tight when she continues, ‘she was my superior, of sorts. In Cadmus. Of that facility, at least. She’s very…’, a muscle twitches in her neck, ‘controlling. She doesn’t like to be defied. Astra could tell you that’. 

 

‘So she wanted to kill you in retribution?’ 

 

Lillian shrugs one shoulder. ‘She wanted me to pay, but she… she’s never one to waste an opportunity. She could use my death, so she did’. Lillian shuts her eyes, and presses her hand against her forehead. ‘I’m… I’m so sorry, Lara. You got caught up in all this, and you’re…’ she shakes her head, and she wishes that apologising for these things she’s done were enough. ‘You’re the victim here. And I’m sorry’. 

 

For a moment, Lara says nothing. Lillian inhales sharply, and turns to take the milk off the stove, occupying herself with a menial task. ‘You know’, Lara says softly, and Lillian feels her shoulders tense, ‘despite losing… my home, and, well -’, her voice hitches, and Lillian wishes that she knew how to ease such sorrow. Lara clears her throat, and Lillian rests her hands on the counter, giving her what little privacy she can, with an echo of the woman’s grief rattling around in her ribs. ‘I was dead, before, Lillian. I didn’t exist. Now I… I’m alive. So is my son. I have a chance to know him, and the man he’s become. I have my niece, and my friends. I have my life. However much losing Krypton hurts, Lillian, this… chance to live again? It’s a blessing’. 

 

Lillian turns to stare at her. Lara’s face is open and honest and bright in the soft light, and Lillian hears herself say, ‘you’re extraordinary’. 

 

Lara blinks, and Lillian feels as startled as Lara looks by what she just said. Lara laughs, surprised and bright and thrilling, a sound that echoes somewhere in Lillian’s chest, and she says, ‘I’ve been called extraordinarily arrogant, but I don’t think that’s what you mean’. 

 

Lillian frowns, momentarily distracted from the heat in her cheeks, and says, ‘arrogant?’ 

 

Lara smiles. ‘A side effect of defying centuries of tradition’.

 

Lillian turns back to the stove, and goes about making Lara’s drink for her. ‘With the Codex?’ 

 

‘Well, with not using it’. There is a pause, and Lillian tries not to tense at the subtle shift in Lara’s tone. ‘You seem to know a lot about my people’. 

 

Lillian sighs. She pauses, her fingers curled tightly around Lara’s drink, and she says, ‘not your people, no. I know very little about your people, but I know a fair bit about… some of your people’s creations. The Codex. The Medusa Virus. Your red sun’.

 

‘That’s an interesting distinction to make’. 

 

Lillian turns back, and slides the hot chocolate over the counter. Then she steps back, leaning against the bench behind her, to put what distance she can between them, without actually fleeing. ‘It’s an important one’, she says, her arms folded tightly over her chest. ‘One that I didn’t make, for a long time. Not with your people, exactly. With aliens. I was afraid of what they could do. Afraid of the havoc they could create. In my mind… you were all to be feared’. She shivers, her jaw clenching and she says, ‘I was wrong’. 

 

_ Wrong _ . It’s strange how that single, simple word, somehow encompasses everything she has done. 

 

She shakes herself, a faint twitch of her shoulders, and says, ‘so it’s important. I don’t know about your people’.

 

Lara reaches for the hot chocolate, and cradles it against her chest for a moment. ‘We’re not the crimes our people committed’, she says softly, and her voice lacks any hint of accusation. She glances up at her, and smiles, a strained thing. ‘Something I said to Alura once. When I was trying to convince her to take my place in the pod. Our people weren’t perfect, Lillian’. Her brow lowers in a tight frown, and Lillian feels that familiar ache between her ribs. ‘The Medusa Virus was simply one example of the terrible things we could do. But you are right. There was more to us. There… there is more to us’. Her expression softens, and she lifts the mug to her lips to drink. Her eyebrows lift, and she smiles, a bright, delighted thing, and says, ‘this is delicious. Thank you’. 

 

Lillian stares at her, at the full shape of her mouth, and says, ‘you have… you have some… here’. She gestures to her top lip, feeling a little awkward, and Lara wipes the chocolate away with the back of her hand, seemingly unfazed. Lillian glances down her folded arms, tapping her fingers absently against her elbow, thinking about the words she wants to say, swirling at the back of her head. She sighs. She’s not used to this, yet, to trying to be herself, to interacting with people outside Cadmus, and there is a strange sense of ease with Lara that she’s not accustomed too. She’s acutely aware, of everything she says and everything she does, when she’s with Lena, with this family that has cautiously welcomed her. It’s the same ease that wraps around her whenever the twins talk to her, but its a little different, and she’s not exactly sure what to do with it. 

 

She takes a deep, slow breath, steps up to the counter, and tries. ‘Lara… I don’t work for Cadmus, anymore. I won’t…’ she swallows, staring at Lara’s slender fingers where they’re curled around her mug. ‘I won’t… betray this family. I just want you to know that’. 

 

‘I do’. Lara says it with such vehemence that Lillian looks up at her, surprised by sincerity in her eyes, and her throat tightens. ‘I know that, Lillian’. 

 

Lillian blinks. She makes a strangely choked sound, and says, ‘you have a lot of faith in someone you don’t know, Lara’. 

 

Lara’s smile is soft. ‘Alura is my closest friend, you know. And both she and Astra believe that you. And… I might not know you, Lillian, but… you are sincere, in wanting to do better. I can feel that’. She lifts her cup, presses it against her sternum, and her eyes gleam in what might be amusement. ‘We’re connected, remember?’ 

 

Lillian feels her eyes burn, but she manages a small smile. ‘At least I don’t have to convince you’. She winces, realising how that must sound, and says,  ‘thats… that sounded wrong’. 

 

‘I know what you mean, Lillian’. Lara is silent for a moment. She looks down into her glass, and sighs heavily. ‘And the others… they don’t know everything, do they?’

 

Lillian’s throat suddenly feels incredibly dry, and there is a prickle of what might be fear stirring her gut. ‘What?’ 

 

‘Your family. Your daughter. They don’t know everything about Cadmus, do they? About that woman’. 

 

Lillian stares at her, and she thinks that she’d retreat, that she’d flee, if she wasn’t frozen from surprise. She stares at Lara, and the corners of the woman’s eyes are pinched in what might be sympathy. ‘I… how… how could you possibly know anything about that?’ 

 

Lara looks down into her glass again, perhaps to give her some privacy, and says, ‘the spell. You were dying, remember? You asked me to call Lena, and she altered it?’ 

 

‘I… its hazy’, she can remember dying, she can remember the weight pressing down on her, that every breath was an effort, her heartbeat thumping sluggishly in her ears, ‘but I remember that, yes’. She remembers that she was dying, and that Lara, this woman she didn’t know and had never seen before, who was simply, suddenly beside her when she woke, she remembers that she was dying, and that she was afraid, and she shivers. 

 

‘You weren’t wearing anything, Lillian’, Lara’s voice is quiet and careful, like she’s afraid of startling her. ‘And I’ve… I’ve seen signs of abuse before’. 

 

Lillian curls her hands into fists until her nails dig into her palms, and she can’t look at Lara. A tremor runs through her body, and she says, a little desperately, ‘they can’t know’. 

 

‘They won’t hear anything from me, Lillian’. Lara reaches over the counter, and touches her arm. Lillian can feel the heat that she’s absorbed into her skin, from the mug she holds in her hands, through her shirt, and she swallows. ‘I didn’t bring it up to cause you distress, Lillian. I just… whatever you’re trying to atone for, with Cadmus, that shouldn’t be part of it’. Lillian looks away from her, staring at the twisting patterns in the marble counter. She tries to keep the shame twisting in her gut from her face, but Lara’s fingers curl in her shirt, and she says softly, ‘and you shouldn’t feel ashamed, either’. 

 

Lillian shivers, and she hears herself say, ‘it’s… strange to hear it referenced aloud’. 

 

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Lara frown. ‘You haven’t spoken about this with anyone, have you?’ Lillian almost laughs. Instead, she makes a choked sound, and shakes her head. Lara tugs at her sleeve, until Lillian looks up at her, and she says quietly, ‘you’ve left an abusive relationship, Lillian. You shouldn’t… you shouldn’t have to go through that alone’. 

 

‘I have no one to tell, Lara’, she says, and she can’t help that it sounds defensive. ‘Besides…’, she grits her teeth, and she wants to say that she doesn’t deserve Lara’s sympathy, because she doesn’t, but it will only sound self pitying. So instead, she shrugs, and says, ‘I’ll weather it’. 

 

Lara stares at her, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, sharp white against her dark skin, and for a moment, Lillian just stares back. She doesn’t know what else to say. Lara’s eyes are dark and gold and gleaming in the light, the corners crinkled in what might be sympathy, and it’s the softest look she’s received in years. 

 

Lara looks away finally, and lifts her mug to her lips again. Then she looks down into it, her shoulders hunched slightly, and says, ‘you said you wanted to help me, if you could’.

 

Lillian straightens, and leans forward slightly, like she can show that she meant it. ‘I do, Lara’. 

 

Lara looks up at her, and says, ‘would you like to hear about my people? Not the things they did that, that you already know. But Krypton as it was, and as it should have been. The parts we wanted to preserve in our children’.

 

Lillian swallows, and she doesn’t know why the request makes her throat feel so tight. ‘I would, if it would help’. 

 

‘I think it would’. Lara smiles, a soft, melancholy thing. ‘My people live on. In my son, in my niece, in the twins. In me, even. As long as we’re here, our home won’t be forgotten. And I would like to share it with someone who doesn’t already know all the stories. Pass on a legacy’. 

 

Lillian lets out a slow, shaky breath, and when she smiles, it feels easy. ‘Then I’d love to hear… well, anything you want to tell me’. 

 

Lara’s smile widens, and she nods, her hands still curled around her mug. ‘Thank you’. 

 

And that’s how it starts.

 

* * *

 

You are not alone. 

 

* * *

 

_ strength _

 

Lillian never expected to see Martine again. Perhaps it was a naive thought, a desperate wish, a silent plea, perhaps it came from understanding that Martine never cared about her, despite what she once wished (still wishes, still, desperately, foolishly wishes), that for her, it was a game, that she was something to use. Even her attempt on her life wasn’t personal, but a way to hurt the people she loves, a way to cause chaos. 

 

It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought about Martine, about what they had, the things they did, the way the woman made her feel, because she has, in the dark hours of the night when her loneliness creeps up on her and seeps into her bones. It’s simply that she believed that the woman was done with her. 

 

So when she returns home one late, cold night, her shoulders already beginning to droop as she steps into the living room, as she feels the silence and the emptiness of the house press down on her, it takes her a moment to realise that the familiar figure standing by the window isn’t, in fact, a faded memory. 

 

She freezes her keys slipping from her fingers to smash against the floorboards, and she breathes, ‘Martine?’ 

 

Martine turns, and Lillian sees that she’s holding a glass of scotch in her damaged hand, and the familiarity of this makes it hard to breathe. The woman smiles at her, and Lillian’s chest aches. ‘Hello, my dear’.

 

Lillian stares at her. She doesn’t know what to do. She knows what she should do, she  _ knows  _ that she should tell Martine to leave, that she should demand it, that she should call for help, help that Kara or Alura or Astra would answer in a heartbeat, but all she can do is stare. 

 

Martine puts her glass down, and takes a step forward, and Lillian steps back. Martine raises her eyebrows, and Lillian says, ‘you tried to kill me’. 

 

Martine steps forward, and Lillian steps back again, and again, a continued advance and retreat, until her back hits the wall, and she has no where to go. Her heart is pounding, and she doesn’t know if its because her body still remembers, still aches, for the absence of loneliness that Martine provides her, or if its because she’s afraid. Martine continues her advance, and Lillian tries not to feel like she’s prey. ‘Surely you don’t think that that was personal, dear?’ Her brow furrows slightly, and if Lillian didn’t know her better, she’d almost think that the woman looks concerned. ‘Nimueh told me that it was the only way to accomplish our goals. You know something about the price of such things, don’t you?’ 

 

Lillian swallows, her hands balled into fists by her sides, thinking of Cadmus, and everything she did there, but still, it doesn’t stop the shaking. She breathes out, and says, ‘what do you want, Martine?’ 

 

‘There was something I wanted to see’, she says, and when she reaches up to touch Lillian’s face, something in her eyes seems to soften. ‘You’ve always carried your loneliness well’. 

 

Stop, is what she wants to say. Get out. Go away. Leave me  _ alone _ . But Martine’s hand is caressing her cheek, and she’s displaying that softness that Lillian was rarely granted, and instead, Lillian tilts her cheek against Martine’s hand, and disgust and shame spikes in her gut. God, she’s so weak. Martine’s mouth curves in a smile, and then she steps back, and away, and sits on the couch. Her eyes gleam, sharp, familiar in their taunting, and says, ‘let me make it up to you, dear’. 

 

She wants Lillian to step forward. To give in. And Lillian’s body is trembling, caught between revulsion and fear, and the crushing weight of loneliness, and Martine’s promise to lift it. Martine lifts her hand, and beckons, and Lillian feels something in her chest crack. 

 

There is a rush of air, and suddenly Lillian is pressed back against the wall, and Lara is standing in front of her, her arms out, as if she’s shielding her, and Lillian can’t see her face, but she hears the anger in her voice when she snaps, ‘get out’. 

 

Lillian almost sobs, almost, almost breaks, and shows weakness in front of the woman who has seen her weak in every way, who has made her weak, who has taken so much from her. Instead, she grasps at the back of Lara’s sweatshirt, and squeezes her eyes shut. 

 

Lara’s here. She’s not alone. 

 

Martine laughs, that low sound that itches along Lillian’s skin. ‘Isn’t that just like a Kryptonian, to take the choice away’. Martine smiles, running her finger along the rim of her glass, and Lillian shivers, balling her hands tighter in Lara’s sweatshirt. ‘Lillian has never asked me to leave, dear. She wants me here’. 

 

Lillian bites back a whimper, because Martine is right, she does want her here, and she knows, a horrible truth low in her gut, that if Lara wasn’t here, she would give in. It’s a strange thing, to know that Lara is protecting her, here, pressed back against her, and she can see how Martine is smiling, a taunting thing, over the top of Lara’s head. Lara is tiny, but she’s her strength, here, and Lillian’s legs are shaking. Lara’s hand reaches back, and settles on her leg, and she says quietly, ‘Lillian?’ 

 

It’s a strange, strange thing, to realise that Lara is giving her a choice. That she’s asking permission, that she’s asking what she wants, and Lillian wonders what would happen, if she asked Lara to go. But she doesn’t want that, she doesn’t, she wants Martine to stay and she wants her gone, she wants to feel wanted, less lonely, and she never wants to see Martine again. The breath shudders out of her, and Martine is still smiling. 

 

Lara’s hand is warm and solid on her leg, her back strong, and she feels that warmth flicker in her chest, blossom and grow, and she remembers that she’s not alone, not really, not ever, and Lara’s presence is soft where Martine’s was hard. She takes a sharp, shaky breath, and gasps, ‘go’. 

 

Lara tenses, her fingers tightening on her leg, and Martine laughs again, a triumphant thing, and Lillian realises that she’s been mistaken. Something like horror snaps in her chest, Lara’s horror, Lara’s fear for her, and somehow, it fortifies her. She takes a deep breath, and straightens, staring at Martine over Lara’s head, and snaps, ‘go, Martine. Get out’. 

 

For the first time since she’s known the woman, Martine looks genuinely surprised. Her eyes widen, and her jaw slackens, and for some reason, Lillian feels a flash of victory, like she’s moved a piece in that never ending game, like she’s won. Lara lets out a slow breath, and says, ‘there. You heard her. Get out’. 

 

Something in Martine’s face twists, something ugly, something dark, and Lillian sees the woman who has always loved hurting her, and flinches. Martine rises, her eyes burning, her jaw tight, and says, ‘I’ll be seeing you both, very soon’. 

 

And then she’s gone. The front door slams, and Lillian’s legs give out. Lara’s arms are around her in a second, holding her up, holding her together, and her lips brush against her ear as she says, ‘easy, easy, Lillian, it’s alright. She’s gone’. 

 

She leans back heavily against the woman, and shudders. Her heart is pounding, too loud and too violent against her ribs, and she feels like the world is spinning. She's shaking, and she feels cold and clammy, and for a moment, she can't say anything.

 

Lara lifts her easily into her arms, and Lillian clutches instinctively at her shoulder, and she thinks she'd laugh, at the fact that Lara is carrying her, despite being so much smaller than her, but all she manages is a strangled sound against her shoulder. Lara shushes her gently, and Lillian sags, allowing herself to relax against Lara, until the woman deposits her gently on the bed. 

 

Lara sits beside her, her fingers stroking gently through her hair, and bends to rest her forehead against her temple. ‘You did so well, Lillian. She’s gone. You stood up to her’. 

 

Lillian shudders, lifts a hand to clutch at Lara’s back. She feels sick, and so, terribly weak. ‘I would've… I would've let her’, she gasps, a sob bubbling up in her throat, ‘if you hadn't been here, I would've… I would've let her touch me again’. 

 

Lara runs a hand over her arm, and says, ‘that doesn't make you -’ 

 

‘It does. It does, Lara. Even after everything… I still… I still want… that’. Shame slices through her, shake and disgust and something like sorrow, and Lara’s fingers tighten on her arm.

 

‘You’re lonely, Lillian. She makes you feel less lonely. That's why you want that’. Lara pauses, and then leans back, and Lillian sits up instinctively, unwilling and afraid to allow too much space between them. Lara lifts her hands to cup her face gently, and Lillian's mouth twists. She'll never understand how Lara can touch her like this, with such gentleness, when all she deserves is Martine’s harsh touch. Lara's eyes are soft and gold in the dark, and she says quietly, ‘do you want what she did to you? Or the absence of loneliness?’ 

 

‘I…’ Lillian shuts her eyes tightly, clinging to Lara’s arms, like she'll crumble to pieces without Lara's steady presence. ‘I don't -’ 

 

‘Lillian’, Lara's thumbs brush over her cheeks, and she feels a pull in her chest, and she doesn't know if it's a reaction to Lara’s touch, or a sign that Lara is listening to how she feels, ‘did you like it when she hurt you?’ 

 

Lillian's jaw clenches, and for a moment, she can't speak. Then she says, ‘that's… that's what it is. Feeling… feeling pleasure can't come without… without that’. 

 

Lara stares at her, her eyes wide, and Lillian averts her eyes in shame. Lara ducks her head slightly to meet her eyes, and Lillian recognises the horror and grief there as it echoes in her chest. ‘Lillian, I-’, Lara’s mouth twists, and Lillian doesn't understand why she looks so sad. ‘That’s not true. Pain isn't a prerequisite to pleasure. Softness isn't… isn't something to be earned’. 

 

Lillian’s eyes blur with tears, and she shakes her head, a little frantically, because Lara can't be right, she can't be. She doesn't want to spill the truth from her lips, but it happens, anyway, because it's almost impossible not to be honest with Lara. ‘It's… it's all I've ever known, Lara. It has to be like that. I… its all I deserve’. 

 

Lara’s eyes are shining, like there are tears filming over gold, and her voice is tight and strained, and Lillian's chest hurts. ‘That’s not true, Lillian. Rao, you deserve so much better than that. Softness is…’ she pauses, staring up at her, and Lillian wonders if she can sense her disbelief. Then Lara takes a slow, steadying breath, and says, ‘can I do something?’ 

 

Lillian nods. ‘Anything’. 

 

She can give Lara that freedom, because she trusts her, in her bones, in her heart, and the woman is part of her.

 

Lara leans forward, tilts her chin up, and kisses her. 

 

And it is the softest thing she's ever known. 

 

Lillian isn’t sure if there is a name for the sound that escapes her, muffled against Lara’s lips, its something like a whine, and something like a whimper, and yet its nothing so pained. But she doesn’t really care, because Lara is kissing her, and Lara’s lips are soft and gentle, and she kisses her with something that Lillian might dare call reverence, her thumb smoothing back and forth over her cheek, and there is nothing sharp, nothing rough, no hurry, Lara kisses her like she has all the time in the world, and Lillian lifts a hand to cup the back of her head, her fingers sliding through the woman’s short, soft hair, and kisses her back as best she can. 

 

She doesn’t know how to be soft, like this, but she wants to be, she wants to give, she doesn’t want to be anything like Martine, and the things she did. 

 

When Lara pulls away, Lillian hears a strangled sound escape her, and she chases after her, thinking about how Martine would give softness, only to use it as a weapon, only to retract it, but Lara’s lips are just as soft as before when she kisses her again. Lara’s hand slides into her hair to cradle the curve of her head, and Lillian clings to her. 

 

Lara doesn’t stop, this time, and Lillian finally has to pull away, to breathe, but Lara stays close, resting their foreheads together, and says, ‘easy, Lillian. I’m not going anywhere’. 

 

Lillian presses closer, closer, like she can take Lara into her heart, but perhaps she’s already there, in a way. Her breathing is shallow, and she can’t think of a single thing to say. Lara’s thumb smooths over her cheek, and she kisses the corner of her mouth. ‘Did you like that?’ 

 

Lillian nods, still speechless, still lost for words, and Lara smiles. ‘Do you want me to do it again?’

 

When Lillian nods again, Lara presses gently at her shoulder. Lillian lies down, her heart in her mouth, and Lara stretches out beside her, their legs tangled together. Lara kisses her again, a hand in her hair, another cupping her face, and Lillian slides her hand around Lara’s back to keep her close. Her other hand lifts, tugs at the neckline of Lara’s sweatshirt automatically, and reaches for her own shirt, pops a button, and Lara stops. ‘Hey’, she says, closing her hand over Lillian’s fingers, stopping her, ‘hey, Lillian, stop’. 

 

Lillian blinks, uncertainty flaring in her chest, and she says, ‘don’t you want -’ 

 

Lara cuts her off with another, soft kiss, and says, ‘I… I do. But Lily… it’s not about that. You don’t have to repay me with that. It’s about this’. She kisses her, soft and tender, and Lillian’s fingers go slack. ‘It’s not about taking something from you. It’s not about using you’. 

 

Lillian shifts, surprised by the nickname. Nicknames are things of affection, like the way the twins address Alex and Lucy, they’re things for people who matter, not for her. Her fingers curl tight in Lara’s shirt, and she mumbles, ‘then what… what happens now?’ 

 

Lara kisses her cheek, and Lillian shivers at the easy, soft display of affection. ‘What do you want to happen?’ 

 

Lillian swallows. She looks down at Lara’s lips, and says, ‘I’d like to kiss you again’. 

 

Lara laughs, but it’s a gentle, delighted sound, not something mocking and cruel. She tilts her chin up to kiss her, and its a little deeper than before, a press of lips, Lara’s tongue running over her bottom lip, but it’s still entirely unlike anything she’s ever known. It’s not invasive. Then she pulls back, the corners of her eyes crinkled in a smile. ‘Aside from that?’ 

 

Lillian sighs, and bites her lip. ‘I…’ she trails off, because asking for softness, asking for anything like this, she knows better, and she knows that Lara isn’t Martine, but it’s a hard thing to break out of. Lara’s fingers brush over her ear, and she trails her fingers down along the long of her jaw. She feels warmth flood her chest, though whether it’s from the woman’s touch, of that connection they have, she cannot tell. Perhaps it’s both. She shuts her eyes, and exhaustion settles in her chest. ‘I just want to sleep’. 

 

What she doesn’t say, what she can’t say, is that the idea of Lara leaving her now terrifies her, the idea sleeping alone in this empty house almost makes her want to sob aloud. But Lara’s brow furrows slightly, like she knows anyway, and of course, of course she does. She kisses her forehead, and her arms wrap around her, soft and strong. ‘Would you like it if I stayed?’ 

 

Lillian nods. ‘Please’. 

 

Lara nudges at her cheek with her nose, and says, ‘change. I’ll wait’. 

 

With more effort than she feels capable of, Lillian stands, and crosses to her walk in closet. She changes quickly, and grabs one of her worn t-shirts for Lara to wear. She returns to bed, sliding under her sheets, and Lara smiles at her, an expression that might be a mix of affection and fondness. She tugs her sweatshirt over her head, discards it on the end of the bed, and Lillian laughs, when Lara tugs the shirt down over her head, because it dwarfs her. Lara’s mouth twitches, and she reaches up under her shirt to remove her bra. Lillian watches her settle down against the sheets, thinking of that brief flash of skin revealed to her, and she wonders if the woman is just as soft as her kisses. 

 

Lara rolls onto her side, and extends her arms. ‘Come here, Lily’, she says, and it’s not a demand.

 

Lillian shifts closer, and Lara wraps her arms around her, draws her close against her chest, and kisses the crown of her head. Lillian loops an arm around Lara’s waist, and presses her face against Lara’s collarbone, breathing in that familiar smell of vanilla and honey, and the uncertainty in her chest loosens. She sighs, and says, ‘thank you’. 

 

Lara’s grip tightens, and here, it is easy to believe that they are connected, with Lara’s warmth and softness washing over her until she’s uncertain if the feeling comes from the touch, or their bond, and sleep is beckoning to her. Lara kisses her forehead, and Lillian lets herself drift off, safe in the knowledge that Martine can’t touch her, and that she’s not alone. 

 

 

* * *

 

You deserve better. 

 

* * *

 

_ soft _

 

Martine is dead. Martine is dead, and her family is safe, as safe as they can be, and yet Lillian only feels hollow. 

 

She killed Martine, she killed the woman who hurt her, who abused her, the woman who hurt her family, again, and again, and she should be relieved. She should be  _ happy _ . 

 

But she isn’t. She can’t feel anything. 

 

They’ve gathered at her house, a house that for many years, has always felt empty and hollow, but she can’t, after what she did, she can’t be wrapped in their love and their warmth, not when she doesn’t deserve it. So she extracted herself from her family, from the tangle of limbs sprawled out in her bed, and descended the stairs, past the living room, down to the den. It’s dark, and quiet down here, the fire crackling in the hearth, but she feels cold. 

 

She feels alone. 

 

She stares at her hands. They’re clean, bandages wrapped around her palms, and yet she imagines that she can see blood, in the lines of her palms. She can still remember the way Martine’s eyes bulged in surprise when she drove the shard of glass through the woman’s ribs, the edges slicing through her skin at the force she exerted, and she remembers that someone screamed. It might have Lena. Or Alura. It’s a blur, after that, after Martine dropped like a puppet whose strings had been cut, after Astra pried the glass from her hands, after they escaped that place, and all she remembers, really, is that her daughter wanted to heal her, but couldn’t, because she’d expended too much magical energy, and Lena was already sagging against Kara’s shoulder. 

 

She doesn’t remember intending to kill Martine. She just remembers doing it. The resistance as the glass split Martine’s chest, the sharp sting that tore through her palms, the strange sound it made. 

 

She curls her hands into fists, and the sting of her cuts feels deserved. 

 

‘Lily?’ 

 

Lillian doesn’t look up. She stares at her hands, and she imagines she can hear Martine laughing. The woman is dead, and still, she feels haunted. 

 

A shadow passes over her, and a hand touches her chin. She looks up, finally, to see Lara kneeling in front of her, her brow furrowed in concern, her golden eyes tired and strained.  ‘Lily’, she says, slowly, like she’s not sure if Lillian can hear her, ‘stop that’. 

 

Lillian blinks, and slowly uncurls her palms. She stares at Lara’s face, like she can find some answer there, and says, ‘she’s dead’. 

 

Lara’s frown deepens. ‘She is’. 

 

Lillian’s mouth twists, and she doesn’t understand why she feels so hollow. ‘Why… I should be happy’. 

 

A look of comprehension dawns, and Lara takes her face in her hands. ‘You think you should be happy that you killed someone?’ 

 

Lillian’s face pinches. ‘Shouldn’t I? She… she did terrible things to my family. I wanted her… I wanted her gone, but I can’t -’ 

 

‘She did terrible things to you, Lily’. 

 

Lillian’s mouth twists, and she shuts her eyes. ‘I… I know. And I’m glad she can’t touch them - us, again. But I… I can’t be happy I killed her’. 

 

‘Oh, Lillian’, Lara shifts forward, presses her lips to Lillian’s cheek, and whispers, ‘do you think that makes you a bad person? Darling, no one should be happy about killing. That woman might have deserved it more than… more than I can voice, but of course you’re not happy you had to kill her. She had a… a hold on you’. Lara sighs, and Lillian lifts her hands to grasp at her shirt, to cling to her. ‘The fact that you’re not rejoicing over death, even if it was hers… you’re a good person, Lillian’. 

 

Lillian thinks of all the things she did for Cadmus, in the name of good, she thinks of the son she lost to madness, and shakes her head. ‘I’m not, Lara’. 

 

‘Yes, you are’. Lara says it with such vehemence that Lillian almost believes her. 

 

Almost.  

 

Lillian lifts her hands, framing Lara’s face with her damaged, tainted hands, and kisses her. It starts as something soft, something gentle, but Lara’s lips part in what might be surprise, and Lillian keeps kissing her, deeper and deeper, until she can barely breathe, and she feels dizzy. Lara sighs into her mouth, a sound that Lillian thinks could be a soft moan, and Lillian shifts, rising up onto her knees, and kisses her harder. 

 

She kisses her until she can’t breathe, and then she pulls away, and Lara’s hands press against her shoulders, pushing her back, and something like fear spikes in Lillian’s throat. ‘Lily’, Lara sounds breathless, despite the fact that her kind can go for longer without breathing, ‘I’m not…’ 

 

‘Please’, Lillian is a little surprised by how desperate she sounds, and she presses her forehead against Lara’s, like she can make her feel how much she wants this, how much she wants  _ her _ , ‘please, Lara’. 

 

Since they kissed, that night when Lara stopped her from falling back into an abusive cycle, they’ve done little more than kiss. Lara holds her while she sleeps, and Lillian runs her hand up and down Lara’s back when her eyes dim, when images of a world she’s never known flitter in and out of Lillian’s mind. They kiss in the hazy embrace of sleep, in moments when they’re alone, and it’s sweet and soft and entirely different, for Lillian, and she thinks that Lara doesn’t want to rush her, even though she recognises the desire for more in her stomach as something that belongs to Lara, as much as it belongs to her. 

 

She likes it, she loves it, but right now, she wants  _ more _ . 

 

Lara bites her lip, her thumbs smoothing over her cheeks, and she says, ‘are you sure?’ 

 

Lillian nods, trying to stamp down the uncertainty in her chest. ‘If you don’t -’ 

 

Lara laughs, a gentle thing, and kisses her, and it’s soft and somehow desperate, a hot, soothing flame, and Lillian shivers. ‘Of course I do, Lily’. 

 

‘Then please, Lara. Please’. 

 

Lara presses at her shoulders until she lies down against the rug, kisses her again, her weight firm and solid on her hips, and Lillian’s heart is pounding. ‘Okay’, she whispers, her eyes warm and soft, her hands gentle as they run down her arms, ‘okay’. 

 

Lara kisses her, slow and deep, and Lillian tilts her head up, kisses her back, opens herself up for the woman who has only ever touched her with absolute, unconditional softness. Lara kisses her, again and again, pauses to let her breathe, and Lillian feels dizzy with it, with the fact that Lara has done nothing but kiss her, yet, like she has all the time in the world, and it is utterly different from anything she has ever known. She has a hand wound tight in Lara’s shirt, another cupping the back of her neck, and she's afraid of letting her go, least this turns out to be a dream. 

 

Lara cups her face, a hand in her hair, stroking gently at her scalp, and it's soothing, where Martine’s fingers used to tug at her scalp until it burned, and Lillian shivers, and tries not to think of that woman, and the things she did. Lara leans back, then, and says, ‘are you alright?’ 

 

Lillian nods, her breathing shallow, and stares up at Lara. Her golden eyes are shining in the light, her skin tinged gold where the firelight touches her neck, and it is easy to believe, then, that she's from another world. 

 

Lara smooths her thumbs over her cheekbones, and says, ‘if you want me to stop, at any time, tell me. If I do anything you don't like, tell me. Alright?’ 

 

Lillian swallows, and nods. She trust Lara, in her bones, and she doesn't believe that the woman could hurt her, but it makes her heart ache, that Lara is asking at all. Lionel was never like this. 

 

Lillian pushes thoughts of her dead husband away, and Lara’s fingers stray to the hem of her shirt. Lillian takes over for her, understanding that the woman needs to know that she's alright with this. She sits up, and the movement jostles Lara into her lap. She tugs her shirt over her head, and Lara leans forward to kiss her neck, trailing her lips in a soft, warm line over her jaw, and Lillian shivers. Lara’s hands sweep down her back, running up and down her spine, and Lillian waits for the harsh sting of her nails, but it doesn't come. Lara’s fingers hook underneath her bra, and she pauses. Lillian nods against her shoulder, and Lara unhooks her bra, slides the straps down her arms, and throws it onto the rug beside them. Lillian shivers, clutching at Lara’s shirt, staying close, and Lara makes a soft, soothing noise in her ear, her hands moving over her skin, fingers pressing and massaging at her muscles, and Lillian sags against her, the tension leaking from her body at the continuous careful pressure of her fingers. 

 

She uncurls her fingers, slides them down Lara’s back, and tugs at the edge of her shirt. Lara kisses her cheek, and leans back to tug her shirt over her head, and the golden light curves down her shoulder to touch her ribs. Lillian follows the light with her fingers, and Lara’s skin is soft and smooth under her hands, silk hiding the strength this golden sun gives her. Lara kisses her cheek, the corner of her mouth, kisses her deeply, her tongue sliding over her lips, and still, there is nothing sharp about it. 

 

Lara presses at her shoulder, a hand cupping the back of her head, to keep her close, to keep kissing her, and the rug is soft against her skin. Lara runs her hands down her arms, and her lips brush over her ear, along the line of her jaw, down the curve of her neck, and it is the strangest thing, to feel the hot rush of pleasure in her belly, without the pain that once accompanied it. 

 

Lara leans up, then, a hand pressed against the floor, and her fingers stroke gently through her hair. Lillian swallows, her hands resting on Lara’s hips, unsure what to do, with her hands, with herself, wanting to run her hands over Lara’s skin, but she doesn't want to be like Martine, and she doesn't know how to be soft. She doesn't know how, because if she was, with Martine, it was never received well, and the resulting pain would often outweigh whatever pleasure the woman decided to give her. 

 

‘Hey’, Lara cups her face, and kisses her, almost carefully, before leaning back so that she can look at her. ‘I’m not her, Lily’.

 

Lillian feels a sharp stab of panic, and her hands tighten on Lara’s hips. She cranes her neck up to kiss Lara, as softly as she can, and mumbles, ‘I know, Lara. I do. I don't think you're like her, I just -’ 

 

‘Lillian’, Lara’s voice is low and gentle, and Lillian shivers. ‘It's alright’. Lillian shudders, and shifts her grip, runs her hands over Lara’s back to embrace her, to pull her close, and kisses her, a little desperately, kisses her until she has to pull away to breathe, and Lara’s breath skims over her cheek. ‘It's alright, Lily’. 

 

Lillian closes her eyes, and for a moment, Lara simply holds her, her fingers running through her hair, her lips pressed against her temple. It's soft and it's safe and there is no hurry to do anything else. Lillian runs her hands slowly up and down Lara’s back, feeling the bumps of her spine, the muscles in her back, the deceptively delicate build of her body, and she turns her head to press her lips against Lara’s neck. Lara leans back to kiss her, and then she sits back, and Lillian tries not to feel exposed, tries to remind herself that Lara is not Martine, or Lionel, and that she is safe, here. 

 

Lara runs her fingers over her collarbones, down her chest, and there is nothing rough about the way she cups her breasts, nothing cruel in the glint in her eyes. Lara curves her body down to press her lips to the curve of her breast, to swirl her tongue around her nipple, her fingers flexing, and Lillian is almost surprised by the sound that escapes her, a shuddering moan that somehow sounds like a sigh. She drops a trembling hand to the back of Lara’s head, fitting her fingers against the curve of her skull, and Lara looks up at her, propping her chin against her sternum, and says, ‘you’re beautiful, Lillian’.

 

Lillian opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. She can't remember the last time someone called her beautiful. Martine never did, and whatever affection Lionel had for her died long before he first struck her. She hasn't felt beautiful in a long, long time. How could this broken and battered and used body ever be considered beautiful? Lara kisses her sternum, her breasts, her neck, the hinge of her jaw, and captures her mouth in a kiss that is fierce and desperate. ‘You’re beautiful, Lily’, she says again, whispered praises against her skin as she moves down her chest again. ‘Beautiful’. A kiss to her ribs, adoration tucked under her skin, soothed with the hot press of her tongue, and Lillian lets out a soft moan that is better than the sob caught in her throat. ‘Beautiful’. 

 

Lillian whimpers, heat coiling in her belly and sparking where Lara’s mouth and fingers touch her, and she breathes, ‘Lara’, and it's like a prayer. 

 

Lara kisses the soft skin of her stomach, and pauses, looking up at her, and says, ‘can I take your pants off?’ 

 

Lillian swallows thickly, and nods. There is something about the simple way Lara asks permission, for everything, that makes her heart ache, a strange, painful warmth, because consent is something that she's never been able to give, because she's never had a choice. Lara sits up, kneeling between her legs, and tugs her sweatpants down over her hips. She throws them to the side, and runs her hands slowly down her thighs, and Lillian shivers, unused to feeling so much from such a soft touch, surprised at the heat in her belly, the way her legs tremble at Lara’s touch, and she bites her lip, when her fingers brush along the line of her underwear, up to settle on her hips, and she almost whines. She’s both eager and nervous and utterly unsure of what to do, and Lara leans down to kiss her again. She doesn’t move her hands, but rests them on her hips, and Lillian reaches down, and shoves her underwear down her legs, kicks them off her ankle, and reaches up to draw Lara down. She holds her close, kissing Lara with all that she has, hiding beneath the delicate strength of her body, because while this is far from the first time she’s been naked underneath someone, this is Lara, and everything about this, with Lara, has been different.

 

Lara plants a hand on the floor by her hand, and runs her fingers up and down her side, trailing them over her shoulder, down the curve of her ribs to rest against her hip. Lillian shivers, and tightens her hold on Lara, and Lara breaks away to kiss her cheek, her lips brushing over her ear as she says, ‘I want to see you, Lily’. 

 

Lillian swallows, her arms winding tighter, gripping at Lara’s shoulders. It’s a strange thing, the anxiety that bubbles up in her chest, because Lara saw her moments ago, almost entirely bare, and yet she’s afraid. She’s afraid that Lara will look at her, here in the firelight, that she’ll see her completely, and that she won’t like what she sees. ‘I… what if you -’ 

 

Lara kisses her, and Lillian tastes salt. ‘Lily’, she says, mumbled words against her lips, lost between kisses, ‘you’re beautiful. Nothing can change that’. Lillian realises that she’s shaking, but there is nothing she can do to hide that, now. Lara kisses her again and again until she’s dizzy with softness, and then she leans back, and cups her face carefully. The way Lara touches her always seems to be with such care, and Lillian’s throat is tight. She whimpers, and Lara presses their foreheads together, and says, ‘trust me?’ 

 

It’s a question, not a demand, and Lillian sags. She nods, kisses Lara’s cheek, her hands trembling when she releases her. Lara sits back, kneels between her legs, resting her elbows on Lillian’s knees, and stares at her. Lillian winds her fingers in the rug beneath her, and waits, her heart thumping somewhere in her throat. Lara bites her lip, her eyes shining in the fire light, and she reaches out, trailing her fingers over Lillian’s collar bone, down her sternum, over every bump of her ribs, and Lillian gasps when her fingers brush lightly over the apex of her thighs. Heat sparks hot and heady, low in her belly, and she’s never experienced this before, this intensity of sensation without a too harsh touch accompanying it. Lara leans forward, and follows the lingering heat her fingers left, like paths tattooed into her skin, with her lips, and Lillian arches up against her mouth, warm and wet and soft against her skin, and Lara continues moving down her body, and with every other kiss, she whispers, ‘beautiful’. She repeats the word again and again like a mantra, and Lillian can feel herself smiling, even if her eyes are stinging. 

 

Lara stops, and Lillian looks down at her. Lara is lying between her legs, her eyes burning gold in the light, and she’s smiling. She props her chin on her hip, and Lillian shivers at the woman’s close proximity to where she’s burning up with want and need, and Lara says, ‘can… can I keep going?’ 

 

Lillian swallows. She reaches down, and brushes the backs of her fingers over Lara’s cheek, and she barely even notices the bandages on her hands, now, because thoughts of what happened and thoughts of what they represent are far, far from her mind. She nods, and Lara turns her head to kiss her knuckles. She kisses the inside of her thigh, the jut of her hip bone, and then she tilts her head down, and her tongue runs lightly, hot and wet, along her, and Lillian shudders. Her head thumps back against the rug, and she groans, ‘Lara…’ 

 

Lara’s tongue moves against her, slow long strokes, firm and steady, and with each snap of pleasure that rolls over her skin and curls in her belly, tighter and tighter, it becomes easier and easier to believe that pain won’t follow. The sounds that roll from her mouth are breathless and low and there are no winces hissing between her teeth, there is nothing except the pleasure shuddering in her bones, and Lillian is chanting Lara’s name over and over, and she can’t stop herself.

 

It builds and builds, that pressure in her belly, until Lara stops, pressing a kiss to her hip bone, and moves up her body, kissing and sucking and running her tongue over her skin, soft things that aren’t sharp despite their speed. She kisses her, open and deep and wet, and Lillian clutches at her arms, feels the steel beneath her skin, and Lara’s hand dips between her legs, and the press of her fingers as they curl up inside her is easy, and there is no pain. 

 

Lara kisses a messy path along her jaw and down her neck, and Lillian tilts her head to the side, something that once would’ve felt like exposing herself, but when Lara’s sucks at her pulse point, her teeth press against her skin, but they don’t bite, they don’t slice and dig in, and Lillian moans, a trembling, throaty sound, at the added sensation. She lifts her leg, hooks it over Lara’s hip, and turns her head to press her face against Lara’s short hair, and moans, and gives in to the sensations surging up in her nerves. 

 

She comes apart with Lara’s lips on her neck, with her body curved over her, a hand in her hair, she comes apart with Lara’s name caught in her throat, and even this, the final explosion, the stars that dance, the wave that crashes down on the shore, is different. It’s nothing like the violent things Martine tore from her, its a natural end to a steady build, a slip over the edge, it washes over her and arches inside her, it overwhelms her in a way that doesn’t frighten her, and she comes back to herself with Lara pressing her lips to her cheek, to her forehead, her temple, her mouth, coaxing her back to her body, a continuous fluttering, soft pressure against her face, and she laughs. 

 

She laughs, and Lara’s lips curve in a smile against her cheek, a soft chuckle brushing over her skin, and Lillian laughs, she  _ laughs _ , and she’s giddy with the way Lara touches her, the sensation of softness and safety that settles in her bones, and she wraps her arms around Lara, and muffles her laughter against her neck. 

 

Lara’s lips brush the shell of her ear, and she says, ‘did you like that?’ 

 

Lillian laughs again, an undignified snort, and mumbles, ‘what do you think?’ 

 

‘I’d hazard a guess that you did, but I would rather hear it’. 

 

Lillian nuzzles at her neck, kisses the slope of her shoulder, and says, ‘I did. I really did’. She swallows, and murmurs, ‘I haven’t… I don’t think I’ve ever… enjoyed it that much’. 

 

Lara leans up, and kisses her quickly, before she rolls off her, lying close beside her, propping herself up on her elbow. Lillian wraps an arm around her neck, and rolls onto her side, to stay close to her, and Lara tangles their legs together. Lara runs her fingers up and down her arm, and Lillian places a hand on her hip, and sweeps her thumb over the soft skin beside her hipbone. Lara shudders, her teeth digging into her bottom lip, and she drops her hand down to cover Lillian’s with her own, to stop her. ‘Lily… you don’t have to, you know’. She leans forward to kiss her cheek, to kiss her deeply, and says, ‘I know that you feel like you have to, but you don’t’.

 

Lillian swallows. She cups Lara’s cheek, curving her fingers against her short hair, and says hesitantly, ‘I… I want to. I do, really. I’m just… I don’t know… how to be soft, like that. I don’t want to hurt you’.

 

Lara laughs, and says, ‘you can’t actually hurt me, you know. Besides, sex can be rough, without hurting’. Then she frowns slightly, and shakes her head. ‘You’re not her, Lily’.

 

Lillian bites her lip, and leans forward to kiss Lara’s neck. Lara groans softly, tilting her head back, lifting her hand to slide her fingers into her hair, and her touch is still soft. Lillian drags her teeth tentatively over her skin, and when Lara groans again, Lillian says, ‘I’d like to try’. 

 

Lara laughs, that throaty, delightful sound, and winds her other arm around Lillian’s neck. Lillian slides her hand down Lara’s back, marvelling at how soft her skin is, warm, like the fire behind them, how delicate she feels, despite the steel strength in her body. She unhooks Lara’s bra, extracts it from between their bodies, and cups Lara’s breast carefully in her hand. Lara places her hand over hers, and squeezes, makes the touch firmer, and Lillian squeezes her breast, massaging her, and Lara groans. Lara shoves her pants over her hips, works them down her legs, kicks them off her feet, and Lillian continues to kiss her neck, open mouthed kisses, letting her tongue and her teeth move over her skin. Lara’s breathing is shaky above her, and its easy, to reach down between Lara’s legs, because for all her strength, Lara is much shorter than her. The woman hooks her leg over Lillian’s waist, her knee pressing against her ribs, and Lillian groans against her neck when she slides her fingers against Lara, when she feels how hot and wet she is, and Lara moans against her hair. 

 

Lara tugs gently at her hair, and when Lillian lifts her head, Lara kisses her, messy and desperate, muffling the sound she makes when Lillian curls her fingers up inside her. Lillian slides her fingers in and out, long, slow strokes, reaching up inside her, as deep as she can, and Lara tilts her head back, a low, throaty groan slipping past her lips, and Lillian bows her head to press her lips against her pulse point. ‘What do you like?’ 

 

Lara laughs, a choked sound, and rolls her hips forward, meeting Lillian’s even thrusts, and says, ‘that, but a little harder’. 

 

Lillian hesitates, but she knows that Lara knows what she likes, what her body likes, she trusts in that as she trusts in her, and so she complies, slides her fingers up inside Lara, a little faster, a little harder, and digs her teeth faintly into her collarbone. Lara moans, her fingers grasping at her shoulders, and Lillian says, ‘like that?’ 

 

‘Yes’, Lara pants, grinding down against Lillian’s hand, ‘like that’. 

 

Lillian keeps it up, dragging her teeth along Lara’s collarbone, craning her neck down to nip at her breast, urging her towards release with quick, hard thrusts, listening to the sounds she makes, alert for any sign that she doesn’t like it, but Lara only keeps moving against her hand, tipping her head back to moan, soft sounds that increase in volume as the rhythm of her hips becomes erratic, and Lillian feels giddy, with the sparks of her own pleasure still smouldering in her fingers, with the strength of Lara’s body as it moves against her, the feel of her under her hands, and when Lara shatters against her, its with a sound that almost sounds like a laugh, rich and throaty and loud, until Lillian muffles it with a kiss. 

 

Lillian kisses her until the trembling wracking Lara’s body ceases, until Lara kisses her back, until she smiles against her lips, and presses at her shoulder until she releases her. Lara flops onto her back, a hand resting on her hip, and Lillian wraps an arm around her waist. She remembers what would happen, after Martine was done, that she’d leave her to her empty bed and her empty house, and that in her absence, her loneliness would come rushing back, and it would be all the worse for her shame. Lara is not like that, she has never been anything like Martine, but still, the need to stay close it overwhelming. 

 

Lara runs her fingers up and down Lillian’s arm, and murmurs, ‘that was nice’. 

 

Lillian smiles, and presses her face against Lara’s shoulder. Lara sits up, and Lillian tenses a little, but Lara leans down to kiss her shoulder, and the tension leaves her. ‘We should move to the couch’, she says quietly, stroking her hair, ‘you need your rest’. 

 

Lillian sighs, reluctant to move, but knowing that sleeping on the floor will only result in a sore back in the morning. She shrugs on her shirt and her underwear, leaving her pants and bra in a pile beside the couch, and when they lie down, Lara retrieves the blanket folded over the arm of the couch to draw it over them. Lillian rests her head against Lara’s shoulder, their legs tangled under the blanket, and wraps her arm around her waist. The woman kisses her hair, and says softly, ‘better?’

 

Lillian closes her eyes, and turns her face to kiss Lara’s shoulder. She nods, and says simply, ‘yes’. 

 

Her hands ache, the sting of her cuts noticeable now that the adrenaline is fading, and she presses as close as she can to Lara. The memory of what happened is still real and raw, without Lara’s hands and lips on her skin, but it’s muted, somehow, and she sighs. ‘You always make things better, Lara’. 

 

Lara kisses her forehead, and says, ‘so do you, Lily’. 

 

She hesitates, guilt pricking at her skin, and asks, ‘do I… I don’t… I don’t take too much, do I?’ 

 

Lara’s grip tightens, and the vehemence in her voice is reassuring. ‘No, Lily, not at all’. She pauses, and then says, ‘you've always made things easier. You've always… given’. Her hand slides up to cup her cheek, and Lillian feels sheltered like this. ‘You’re nothing like her, Lily’.

 

Lillian sags, curls her arm tighter around Lara’s waist, and here, with warmth smouldering in her bones, surrounded by Lara, it is almost easy to believe her. 

 

* * *

 

You are not your abuser. 

 

* * *

 

_ scars _

 

A week before Lena’s birthday, Lillian visits her son. She sits across from him, separated by glass and steel and surrounded by concrete and guards, and yet she still feels a chill when he sits down opposite her. 

 

Perhaps the hardest thing about losing her son to madness was that she never saw it coming. To this day, she doesn’t know if it was because he hid it from her, as he hid it from the world, or if she missed the signs because she didn’t want to see them. She doesn’t know if there was something she could’ve done to stop it, or if it was as inevitable as the time that her husband went too far. 

 

All she knows is that Lena lost the brother she loved, and she lost her son, and the man who looks back at her from behind the glass is a stranger to her. 

 

But she keeps her expression cool and unfazed, and her hand does not shake when she reaches for the phone. Lex stares at her for a long moment, and Lillian tries not to think about how much he looks like his father. When he finally reaches for the phone, his voice is as cold as his eyes when he says, ‘mother’. 

 

The leather of her gloves pulls tight over the back of her hand, but her grip on the phone is the only indication of her nerves. ‘Lex’. 

 

He tilts his head, his eyes narrowing faintly, and she remembers how wild his madness was, when Superman subdued him. ‘It’s been some time’, he says, and he still somehow manages to sound like an irritated child. 

 

There was a time when she visited him often, but those days are over, now. She has her daughter to think of, the girl she loved and lost through her own fear, the relationship she’s trying to mend, and so she gets right to the point, and says, ‘leave your sister alone’. 

 

Lex’s eyes flash, a his knuckles whiten on the phone. A muscle twitches in his forehead. ‘She’s not my sister’. 

 

‘She’s my daughter’, Lillian hears the edge to her voice, and Lex looks faintly surprised, ‘and you’re my son. As your mother, I’m telling you to stop trying to kill her’. 

 

Lex laughs, and it’s a cold thing. ‘I’m surprised at you, mother. Taking her side over mine. One would almost think that you loved her more than me’. Something in the set of his shoulders shifts, and Lillian feels his gaze burning like a target between her eyes. ‘Perhaps you do. After all, your testimony helped send me to prison’. 

 

Lillian stares back, and lifts her chin slightly. ‘I won’t debate love with you, Lex. If you’d rather target me, you’re welcome to’. She leans forward slightly, and this is what she’s here for, all she has to do is to shift his focus, and his attention, and Lena will be safe. ‘I did betray you, after all’. 

 

It’s an exaggeration, but it’s enough, and his lips pull in something like a snarl. She blinks, and her fingers are aching from how hard she’s gripping the phone, because she cannot count the amount of times Lionel once looked at her like that. ‘I’ve heard things about you, mother’, he says, and it’s the same sneer, too, ‘since you left that organisation. Since you stopped continuing my work. Things I haven’t wanted to believe’. 

 

Lillian doesn’t know what he’s referring to, exactly, but the anger in his eyes is enough. She stands, resting her hand on the table, an impending retreat, and says, ‘you’re -’ 

 

‘I’m what, mother? A monster?’ He leans close to the glass, and the manic look in his eyes reminds her oddly of Martine. ‘If I’m a monster, what does that make you? The monster’s mother? You’re so much worse than anything I’ve become’. 

 

Lillian blinks, something in her chest cracking and splintering, but her face remains impassive. She’s had enough practise at such things, and she simply leans forward, and says, ‘it makes me the cause, Lex’. 

 

She hangs up, and turns away, and if her hands are shaking when she shoves them into her pockets, Lex is too far away to see. 

 

~ ~ ~

 

Lena’s birthday passes without incident. Lillian sits sandwiched between the twins, between the two people who have supported and believed in her ability to change, between the two women she might dare to call her friends, and it aches in a wonderful in her chest, to see how easily her daughter smiles. 

 

Lara sits cross legged at her feet, leaning back against her legs, and it’s the first public display of affection between them, and no one bats an eye. Lena smiles at her, something bright and happy, when Lillian places her hand on Lara’s shoulder, smoothing her thumb back and forth absently against her neck, and Lillian almost dares to think that she looks pleased. 

 

Two weeks later, when Lex’s henchmen come for her, Lillian can only feel relieved that it worked, and her daughter is no longer a target. 

 

~ ~ ~

 

Lillian surges to consciousness. It hits her all at once, and she snaps upright with the force of it, and a cry tears from her throat. Everything hurts, her ribs constricting tight, pain throbbing at the back of her skull, and for a moment, she imagines she’s in Cadmus.

 

But there are hands pressing at her shoulders, hands on her face, and Lara’s voice cuts through her panic, ‘Lillian, Lillian, it’s okay! You’re safe!’

 

‘Lena’, she gasps, the walls of the DEO finally swimming into focus, ‘is she -’ the breath hisses out of her, as her ribs ache, and Lara’s presses her back down against the bed. Her thumb strokes back and forth over her cheek, and her brow is pinched in concern. Darkness flickers in front of her eyes, and she blinks until the threat of falling back into unconsciousness seems to have lessened. She takes a shuddering breath, and says, ‘is she alright?’

 

Lara leans down, and kisses her cheek. ‘She’s fine, Lily. She wasn’t even with you when it happened. She and Kara have gone to retrieve some healing spells’.  

 

Lillian swallows, and lifts a hand to grasp weakly at Lara’s shoulder. ‘What happened to the men?’ 

 

Lara’s lips brush over her forehead, and she says, ‘Astra and Alex are questioning them’. 

 

Lillian’s throat tightens, her fingers twisting in Lara’s shirt, and she laughs, a short sound. ‘I can tell them what happened. Lex sent them’. 

 

Lara tilts her head, and kisses her gently, soft and tender, and a sob tears a destructive path up her throat. Lara stays close, fingers curled in her hair, and says quietly, ‘we know, Lily. We just… wanted to be sure’. 

 

Tears are burning her throat, her mouth, her eyes, and she gasps, ‘I just wanted him to leave Lena alone’. 

 

Lara kisses her temple to soothe her. ‘Easy, Lily’, she says, ‘you took… you’re injured. You've got a bad concussion, and your ribs are cracked. To say nothing of the bruising. Lena will heal you when she gets back’. 

 

‘She shouldn't’, Lillian feels like her voice sounds as if it's coming from far away, and it sounds hollow. ‘I don't… I should carry these. I should suffer them’.

 

Pain twists Lara’s face, and her hands grasp her face, forcing her to look at her, and she says, ‘Lily-’

 

‘I'm the monster’s mother, Lara. I deserve this’.

 

‘No’, Lara leans down, pressing her forehead against Lillian’s temple, ‘no’, she presses harder, burrows her face against her neck, her fingers tightening in her hair, ‘no’, a sob tears from Lara’s throat, and Lillian is as surprised by the sound as by the suddenness of it, and all at once, she realises that Lara is shaking, and the burn in her chest isn't simply physical, ‘no, Lily. You don't’.

 

Lillian doesn't know what to do, she doesn't know what to say, she feels stunned by the sorrow surging up and tightening around her ribs, because it doesn't belong to her. She slides her hand around Lara’s back, hissing as her chest twinges in pain, and she wishes that she could say something, but her guilt and her grief and despair is overwhelming, and the words die.

 

‘Lillian!’ 

 

Lillian opens her eyes, and Lara releases her suddenly, all at once, tearing herself away to back into a corner, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, and Lillian thinks she'd sob from the sudden lost, except Alura has burst into the room, a force of nature that somehow manages to seem so small, and the woman half sits on the bed, and wraps her arms around her, and Lillian forgoes sobbing in favour of wrapping her arms around the woman, and hiding her face in her hair.

 

‘I'm alright, Alura’, she whispers, even though her chest burns with every breath, and Lara isn't looking at her. ‘I'm alright’.

 

‘You had us worried, lionheart’. Lillian glances up to see Astra standing by the bed, her hands splayed against Alura’s back, that ever present, obvious need to be near her sister whenever something like this happens, and Lillian recognises the anxiety pinching the corners of the woman's eyes.

 

She smiles, and tries to make it as real as she can, because she still doesn’t know how to handle the way they seem to  _ care _ for her, she doesn’t know how to handle this kind of faith and affection from two people who, like Lara, like everyone in this family she once wronged, have every reason to hate her. ‘You should know that I'm not easy to get rid of by now, Astra’.

 

Astra doesn't smile. Instead, her hand drifts from Alura’s back, down Lillian’s arm to grasp her fingers. Lillian blinks, surprised, and lets her fingers curl hesitantly around the other woman’s. Astra tilts her head, her brow furrowing, and there is a question in her eyes. Lillian swallows. She can't speak, because she doesn't recognise what Astra is asking her.

 

Alura’s arms tighten around her, and Lillian hisses in pain. Lara jolts, and says, ‘I'm going… I’m going to see whether Lena’s here. She should heal you’.

 

Fear seizes in Lillian’s chest as Lara turns to walk out, but her voice is still caught, and so she doesn't, she can't call out to stop her, and something like a whimper catches under her tongue as the woman departs the room.

 

Astra lifts her head, like she heard it anyway, and glances over her shoulder at Lara. Astra looks down at her sister, and a silent exchange passes between them, that uncanny way they have of communicating without speaking. Alura hesitates, but nods, and turns back. She kisses Lillian’s cheek, and says quietly, ‘I’m going to go with her’.

 

The fear in her gut boils and burns, because the thought of being left alone, now, scares her, but Astra squeezes her hand, and when Alura hurries, Astra doesn't follow her. Instead, she sits on the edge of the bed, and squeezes her hand. ‘Lillian’, she says, ‘are you alright?’

 

Lillian blinks. She doesn’t know what to do with the concern she can see in the woman’s eyes. ‘I’m… my chest hurts’, she says carefully, and surely saying that much isn’t admitting weakness.

 

Astra frowns slightly. ‘Lillian… your son tried to have you killed. Are you alright?’

 

Lillian’s mouth twists, and she looks away. ‘He’s stopped going after Lena. That’s all that matters’. 

 

Astra shakes her head, and says, ‘that doesn’t answer my question, Lillian’.

 

Something like despair, like resignation, spikes in her gut, and she shakes her head, tears stinging the backs of her eyes. ‘What do you want me to say, Astra?’

 

Astra’s brow pinches in pain. Instead of answering, and leans forward, and presses her face against the pillow beside Lillian, her arm wrapping around her waist, and Lillian nearly sobs aloud. ‘You’re not alone, lionheart’, she says softly, ‘just remember that’.

 

Lillian squeezes her eyes shut, and bites her lip to keep quiet, to contain the tears behind her eyes. She wants to tell Astra that she knows, but she doesn’t, it’s not something she can believe yet.

 

And Lara, Lara isn’t there, and Lillian can’t feel her, and she’s forgotten how much it hurts to feel so alone.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Lillian is curled up on the couch, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and she thinks she might be drunk. 

 

She left Lena sleeping in her bed, left them to the warmth of the sheets and the safety of her daughter’s arms, to move here, to sit alone in the dark with a bottle for company.

 

Her son tried to kill her, and she can hear Martine laughing in the shadows. She remembers all those conversations they had, when she told Martine that she loved her children, that she'd do anything for them, and Martine had smiled that knowing smile, and told her that one day she'd understand she'd simply deceived herself. 

 

Her son is a monster, and she's his mother, and the alcohol isn't enough to eradicate the guilt in her throat.

 

There is a click as the window opens, and closes, and when she looks up, she sees Lara standing in the shadows, her face lit up in something like surprise. ‘Lily? I'm sorry I took so long, Kal needed… ’ she stops, for a moment, noticing the bottle, the empty glasses, and something inscrutable passes over her face. ‘What are you doing?’

 

Lillian stares at her. Her vision is blurred, and she can't see her properly in the dark. When she speaks, her voice is tight, and she doesn't mean to say it at all. ‘I can't feel you’. 

 

Lara’s mouth twists. She looks away, and reaches out to turn on one of the lamps. Lillian flinches away from the soft, warm light, and she knows that Lara will see the red rims to her eyes, the dried tears on her cheeks. Lara makes a soft, pained sound. ‘Lillian, I-’ 

 

‘You’re blocking me’, she says, and her voice escapes as something raw and pained. ‘Did I… did I do something? Did I hurt you?’ 

 

Lara rushes forwards, and drops to her knees in front of her, her eyes wide and desperate. ‘Rao, Lillian, no, no, I just-’, her voice catches, and Lillian wants to reach for her, she wants to comfort her, but she doesn't know if she's allowed to. She takes a shuddering breath, and says, ‘I was just upset, and I didn't want you to feel it. You have enough going on’. 

 

‘You were upset because of me’. 

 

‘No, Lillian -’ 

 

‘Lara’, Lillian’s voice cracks, a shuddering plea, and she says, ‘please don't lie to me’. 

 

Lara’s mouth twists. She reaches out, and takes the bottle from her hands. She sets it down on the coffee table, and takes her hands in her own, and Lillian almost sobs aloud, because she has missed Lara’s touch, desperately, and she doesn't know how she survived without it. ‘Lillian’, she says gently, ‘I wasn't upset with you. I was upset for you’.

 

Lillian blinks. She frowns slightly. ‘Why?’ 

 

Lara swallows. ‘Because… because awful things keep happening to you, Lillian. And you think… you think you deserve it’. She looks down at their hands, a pained frown twisting her brow. ‘And I wish you didn't. I wish you knew you didn't. Why don't you, Lily? Can't you see that it's not your fault?’ 

 

Lillian looks down at their intertwined fingers, and realises that her grip on Lara is knuckle white. She can't bring herself to loosen it. She wants to dismiss it, but she can't, because the truth is that she  _ does _ deserve it. Slowly, she takes a trembling breath, and says, ‘I do, Lara. I do deserve it’.

 

Lara’s frown deepens, and she looks up. She must've heard something, in her voice, because there is a note of horror there when she says, ‘Lily… what aren't you telling me?’ 

 

Lillian tries to bite back the words, she tries to stop them, but they escape her without her consent, in a sound like a twisted sob. ‘Martine killed my husband for me’. 

 

Lara stares at her. Her lips are parted in surprise, her eyes wide and gleaming in the dark, that note of horror colouring her expression, and Lillian let's herself stare back, trying to memorise Lara’s expression, the shape of her mouth and the angles of her face, the particular golden shade of her eyes, because after this, after admitting this dark secret she's never spoken aloud, Lara might leave her, and Lillian has never been more terrified in her life. 

 

Lara swallows, the muscles in her throat tightening, and she rises, her hands slipping from Lillian’s grasp, and for one, horrible moment, Lillian thinks she's going to leave. A whimper bubbles up in her throat, and her mouth twists as she averts her eyes. She can't look at Lara, not after this, she can't, and she squeezes her eyes shut, waiting for whatever condemnation the woman will give her. 

 

The couch dips beside her, and Lara’s hands cup her face. Lillian flinches, but she doesn't pull away. Instead, she leans into the touch, desperately, like it might be the last time she's allowed to do such a thing, and Lara says, ‘tell me what happened, Lily’. 

 

Lillian whimpers again, and shakes her head. ‘There’s nothing… there’s nothing to tell. It doesn’t… it doesn’t matter’.

 

Lara moves again, and Lillian shudders when the woman settles into her lap, her legs framing her hips, their torsos pressed tight together, and Lara leans their foreheads together, her hands curved against her cheeks, and when she speaks, her voice is soft. ‘Lillian’, she whispers, and Lillian’s fingers curl tight in her shirt, ‘you’ve suffered in silence long enough. This matters. You matter. Talk to me, Lily. Please’. 

 

Lillian ducks her face against Lara’s shoulder, and shudders. Lara shifts her grip, slides her hand into her hair to cup the back of her head, to cradle her, like she’s something precious, her fingers trailing up and down her spine. She swallows, her voice caught in her throat, and says, ‘when I… when I married Lionel, it didn’t… I didn’t… things were different. They were… good, for a while. I… I loved him, and I thought he… well, things were different’. She takes a shuddering breath, because she knows she needs to be clearer, that she needs to say more, to expand, but its hard, its the hardest thing she’s ever tried to do, because she’s never spoken about this before. She swallows, and mumbles, ‘I… enjoyed the things we did’.

 

Lara stiffens, like she’s heard the unsaid thing. ‘And then he started hurting you?’ Her voice is tight, but her hands are still gentle where they touch her. 

 

Lillian’s breath hitches, and she tightens her grip, like it’ll somehow make things easier. ‘He just… whether I liked it became… insignificant to him’. She swallows again, trying to swallows the sobs that bubble and burn in her chest. ‘And then… he started... ’

 

‘He started deliberately hurting you, didn’t he?’ 

 

A shudder wracks her body, and turns her face, nuzzling against Lara’s neck, breathing in the comfortable smell of her. ‘At first it was just… in the bedroom, and then it… it wasn’t’. 

 

‘Tell me, Lily. Tell me when it first happened’. It’s not a question, really, but the way Lara voices it, the gentle note to her voice, tells her that it’s not a demand, either. ‘You don’t have to hold this inside you anymore’. 

 

Lillian whimpers, and Lara kisses the side of her head. The breath rushes out of her, and she says, ‘the first time he just… I was tired, and I didn’t want to… I wanted to sleep. He insisted, and when I refused, he hit me. I was… I was shocked, and so I didn’t… I let him’. 

 

‘Oh, Lillian’, Lara’s voice sounds choked, and her grip tightens, ‘Rao, that’s… that’s rape, Lily’. Her fingers shift to cradle the back of her neck, and she says, ‘and he… he kept doing that?’ 

 

Her jaw clenches, and she shakes her head, almost unconsciously. ‘No, no, Lara, it wasn’t… it wasn’t like that. He just… if he wanted it, he -’ 

 

‘He raped you, Lillian. It doesn’t matter if you didn’t physically resist, or if you stopped resisting because it was… it doesn’t matter, Lillian. It doesn’t matter that he was your husband, it doesn’t matter if you consented to the sex, sometimes, or at the time, it doesn’t… it doesn’t matter’. Lara shakes her head, her grip tight, her voice soft. ‘You didn’t want to be to be hurt. You didn’t consent to being hurt. That’s rape, Lillian’. 

 

Lillian grips Lara tighter, and mumbles, ‘I didn’t… I didn’t know how to stop him’.

 

‘Oh, Lily’, Lara leans back, cupping her face in her hands, and the corners of her eyes are crinkled, her mouth pinched, she looks pained, and desperately sorry, and she strokes her thumbs back and forth over her cheeks. ‘Lily, it wasn’t your fault. None of that was your fault. You were trapped, Lily. You had your children to love, and protect’.

 

A sob tears from her throat, and her jaw aches with the tension of trying to keep quiet. It’s strange, how Lara seems to understand the things she hasn’t said yet. ‘I… I couldn’t leave them. I couldn’t… I couldn’t leave. I wasn’t… I wasn’t strong enough’. 

 

‘No, Lily, stop, stop thinking that’. Lara bumps her nose against her cheek, nudges at her temple, kisses her hair, and Lillian feels her mouth twist. ‘It's not your fault that these things have happened to you. You're not weak. You were trapped in an abusive relationship with a violent man and you had no way of leaving. That doesn't make you weak’. She kisses her temple, her cheek, and Lillian realises her face is wet, and she doesn't know who the tears belong to. ‘The fact that you're here, Lily, that you survived, that makes you strong’. 

 

Lillian shakes her head, a little frantically, and when she speaks, her voice sounds like a whine. ‘I didn't… I’m not here because I'm strong, Lara. I’m… I’m not. I’m here because Martine… intervened’.

 

Lara’s fingers stroke through her hair, massaging the place at the back of her head where tension always seems to rest, and a shaky sigh shudders out of her at the soothing touch. ‘What happened?’ 

 

‘She… he went… too far, one night’. She shudders, remembering the razor sharp pain as the broken shards of glass tore into her skin. She releases Lara with shaking hands, and leans back against the couch. She reaches for the hem of her shirt, and tugs it over her head, her shoulders curving in automatically in an attempt to shelter herself. It's not like Lara hasn't already seen her like this, or that she hasn't seen her scars, but it's different, deciding to deliberately show her. She touches her fingers against her ribs, and says, ‘I don't know what set him off, or why he did it. We'd had a… a dinner party. Cat Grant was invited, as a rising journalist, as a person of interest, and I… I spoke to her a lot’. She shrugs a shoulder, and mumbles, ‘towards the end… that might've been enough’.

 

‘Abusive people don't need a reason to do the things they do, Lily. Their actions just make you look for one’. Lara’s fingers ghost over her ribs, catching on the slight bumps, and she frowns slightly. ‘What…’

 

‘He broke my ribs’, she says, and her voice is surprisingly steady, because she can remember how that felt. ‘Rather than puncturing my lungs, they… protruded’. 

 

Lara’s mouth twists, and a muscle jumps in her jaw. She curls her hand against Lillian’s ribs, smooths her thumb back and forth over the scar, and her eyes flick over her body, like she’s searching for others that she might not have noticed, and Lillian tries not to flinch away from her scrutiny. Lillian swallows, and gestures wordlessly to her back. Lara’s jaw tightens, and she slides her hand to her back, pressing slightly until Lillian leans against her, that hand still working through her hair, and her fingers trail over her skin. She stops, her fingers finding a pattern of small scars over her shoulder blade, fanning out towards her spine, down to the small of her back, down the back of her upper arm. Lillian shudders slightly, pressing her face into Lara’s neck. The scars are faded now, only visible up very close, but they're still obvious to the touch. Lara’s breath catches, and she says, ‘Rao, Lillian, is this from -’ 

 

‘Glass’, she breathes, her throat aching, and Lara’s hold on her tightens. ‘When he was in a rage, he'd… hit things before he… hit me. Because of the… there were lots of wine glasses on the table. He knocked a lot of them to the floor, and when he… when I fell, I landed on them’. 

 

Lara swears quietly, a harsh string of kryptonian syllables, and Lillian grips her tighter. Lara’s fingers trail down her spine, tracing the slivers of scarred skin, and she murmurs, ‘I’m so sorry, Lillian’.

 

Lillian shakes her head slightly, turning her face against Lara’s shoulder. She doesn't understand why Lara is apologising. She takes a deep breath, and mumbles, ‘a lot of them went deep. One nicked an artery’. She lifts her arm, turning it outwards so that she can see the faded, round circle on the inside of her arm, one that is mirrored on the other side, from where the stem of a wine glass pierced through her. ‘There was… a lot of blood. I didn't know what to do. I knew that I needed help, but I couldn't… I couldn't call an ambulance. I didn't want Lex or Lena to hear about it. But I couldn't let them find me like that, either’. 

 

‘So you called Martine?’ 

 

Lillian nods, and she feels the urge to apologise. ‘She… she took care of me. When I woke up, she told me that… that she'd taken care of Lionel. And she had. I found out that he was dead. Car accident’. 

 

‘Wait’, Lara leans back to look at her, a frown furrowing her brow, ‘you didn't ask her to kill him?’ 

 

‘No’. Lillian blinks, averting her eyes. ‘No, I didn't. He was… he was still their father, Lara. Lena loved him more than she loved Lex, even’. She swallows, tries to squash the regrets burning up in her throat. She loves her daughter. She always has, and she tried to love her as she deserved, and she made sure that Lena never knew what Lionel was like when he wasn't her father, but sometimes she wonders if she didn't try hard enough, if she let the way Lionel treated Lena impact the way she acted, no matter how hard she tried. ‘I wouldn't… I couldn't take that from my children’. 

 

‘Lillian’, Lara cups her face gently, exerts a little pressure on her jaw until she looks up, and her eyes are too bright, a film of tears glittering over gold, and she breathes, ‘why do you feel responsible for his death if you didn't ask Martine to kill him?’ 

 

‘Because she did it for me, Lara’. She reaches up, and curls her fingers around Lara’s wrists, and she doesn't know whether she wants to pull her closer, or push her away, and in being torn, she just grips her. ‘She did it for me, and it -’ 

 

‘Lillian, you’re not responsible for the choices she made’. Lara’s voice is still gentle, but its firmer, now. ‘For the things she did. It wasn't your fault when she abused you, and it wasn't your fault that she decided to kill your husband’. Her thumbs smooth over her cheeks, and she leans forward to kiss the bridge of her nose. ‘Martine manipulated people, Lillian. You know that. She probably knew exactly what she was doing when she killed him. That you'd feel… indebted’.

 

Lillian squeezes her shut, but the burning heat behind her eyes spills over to sear down her cheeks. ‘I thought she cared, Lara’. 

 

‘I know, Lily. I know. But it's not your fault. Lionel was an abusive man and Martine… took advantage of your vulnerability. People like that… they know how to… they prey on the hurt’.

 

‘You mean the weak’.

 

‘No, Lily, I don’t. You weren't weak then, and you’re not weak now’. Lara presses feather light kisses to her eyelids, and murmurs, ‘you’re here, and you survived. You’re brave, Lily’.

 

‘I'm not… Lara… you think too highly of me’. Lillian hears the hitch in her voice, the sobs caught under her tongue, the restraint that threatens to snap, and its one of her greatest fears, with this, with Lara, that one day the woman will wake up and understand that she deserves better.

 

‘Lillian… if I told you that my husband did the things Lionel did, wouldn't you tell me that I’m strong for surviving? That it wasn't my fault?’ Lillian jerks, and the horror that slices through her chest must reflect in her eyes when she looks at Lara, because the woman touches a finger to her lips gently. ‘He didn't’, she says, and Lillian sags, ‘but if he had?’ 

 

Lillian’s mouth twists, and her eyes blur as tears well up and spill over again. She knows that Lara is right, she does, she knows that if their positions were reversed, she’d feel differently, but knowing, and believing are different things. It still  _ feels _ like her fault, like she could've done something to stop Lionel, or Martine, that she somehow did something to warrant the things they did, and she whimpers, ‘I… I’d feel differently’. 

 

Lara lets out a long, relieved breath, like somehow the admittance means progress, though Lillian can’t understand how. ‘Then how can it be your fault, Lillian? How can you blame yourself?’ 

 

Lillian hears a sob catch behind her teeth, and she ducks her head against Lara’s shoulder again, presses close against her neck, like she can hide in the hollow of her throat. ‘I don’t… because I could've… because it's… if it's not my fault that these things keep happening to me, then… then why do they?’ 

 

Lara’s shoulders curve inwards, her grip tightening, like she wants to shelter her in the curve of her body. ‘I don't know, Lillian. I can't tell you why bad things happen to people who don't deserve it. But I can tell you that you never deserved a single thing Lionel or Martine did to you. You never deserved that pain or that suffering. You don’t. I promise’. 

 

Lillian whimpers, her throat so tight that she feels like she can barely breathe, her eyes burning as tears slide down her cheeks, and she mumbles, ‘do you… do you really believe that?’ 

 

Lara leans back, and Lillian’s fingers ache from how hard she clutches at Lara’s shirt. The woman takes her hands in her own, and presses them against her chest. Lillian can feel the solid, steady beat of Lara’s heart under her hands, and it calms some of the hysteria choking in her throat. Lara frowns, biting her lip slightly, that familiar look of concentration, and that wall between them, that block that left her feeling so empty, falls, and Lillian  _ feels _ her again, that echo thumping beside her own heart, that warmth, and the woman’s emotions rush over her, flood her, and she lets out a strangled sound of relief. 

 

‘Do you feel that?’ 

 

Lillian nods, her hands shaking where Lara holds them against her chest. She can taste salt on her tongue, but with her hands pressed to Lara’s chest, she cannot wipe her tears away. ‘I… I do, I just… what is it?’

 

Lara draws her close again, wrapping an arm around her back, and Lillian presses her face against Lara’s shoulder to muffle her tears. ‘It’s a lot of things, Lily. But you asked me if I believe it. Feel that. Feel that I do’. Lillian shudders, biting her tongue hard enough that she tastes blood, and Lara rubs at her back. ‘You can cry, Lily. Let yourself cry. It’s alright’. 

 

A horrible, ugly sound tears up Lillian’s throat, and she presses her face against Lara’s neck, and cries. 

 

She cries, cries like she never let herself in those years when she had to stay silent for her children, she cries, for the marks left on her skin, for the things she let Martine do, she cries, because she can, and Lara is here, and she is safe, and Lara holds her, and repeats those simple words,  _ you didn’t deserve it,  _ over and over again.

 

And with Lara’s feelings wrapped around her ribs, pulsing in time to her own heartbeat, warm and glowing and overwhelming in a strangely wonderful way, Lillian  _ believes  _ her. 

 

 

* * *

 

It was not your fault.

 

* * *

 

_ safe _

 

‘Are you sure about this?’ 

 

Lara’s breath is warm as it ghosts over her cheek, her hands gentle as they skim down her ribs. Lillian is panting, coming down from another high, her breathing ragged and shallow, her skin glistening in the soft lamplight, and she reaches up to push her hair out of her face. She rests her hand against her forehead, and hums, ‘mhm’. 

 

‘Lillian’, Lara nudges at her cheek, her body warm and solid against her, her knees pressing against the inside of her thighs, Lillian’s legs having fallen open on either side of her. The insides of her thighs are slick, and Lillian doesn’t think she’s ever been this wet before. Then again, no one has ever done the things Lara does to her. She’s never been treated like this, like her own pleasure is the only important thing, like its somehow enjoyable, for Lara, to do this for her, to make her come apart again and again, and so perhaps its no surprise. Lara nudges at her cheek again, and says, ‘Lillian, you know I need more than that’. 

 

Lillian smiles, bites her lip slightly, and drops a trembling hand to Lara’s back, to keep her close. ‘I know’, she mumbles, ‘I just… need a minute’. 

 

‘Hey’, Lara presses her lips to the corner of her mouth, and murmurs, ‘are you okay?’ 

 

Lillian nods. ‘Mhm. Better than okay. I just need to… catch my breath’. 

 

Lara chuckles, and she’s smiling that familiar soft, smug smile. ‘You’re not too tired, are you?’ 

 

Lillian grumbles. ‘I’m not that old. I’m just… not used to this. You’re the one who insisted on making sure I’m ‘prepared’ enough’. She shuts her eyes again, breathing slowly through her nose. ‘I blame you entirely’.

 

Lara presses a wet, open mouthed kiss to her neck, her teeth scraping faintly against her skin, and Lillian’s teeth dig into her own lip as a moan bubbles up in her throat. Then Lara leans up, propping her chin in her hands, and Lillian recognises the serious note to her voice when she says, ‘it wasn’t too much, was it? You’re sure you’re okay?’

 

Lillian smiles, and slides her hand up to cradle the back of Lara’s head, shaping her fingers against the curve of her skull, and pulls her down to kiss her. She breaks away, and keeps Lara close, keeps their foreheads pressed together, and breathes, ‘I’m sure, Lara’. Her mouth twitches. ‘I’m just a little envious of your stamina. You barely seem fazed’. 

 

Lara snorts. ‘I was definitely fazed when you had your head between my legs’. 

 

Lillian tilts her chin up to kiss her again, running her tongue over her lips until Lara opens up for her, and she smiles as Lara sighs against her, a soft almost moan. ‘I liked that’, she says softly, nipping at Lara’s lips, ‘I liked doing that for you’. 

 

Lara smiles, that soft, beautiful thing that has become wonderfully familiar to her. Lara strokes her fingers gently through her hair, and says, ‘you’re wonderful, Lily’. 

 

Lillian cups her face, and kisses her again, kisses her forehead, her cheeks, the hinge of her jaw, her throat, wraps her arms around her, pulls her close, press her face against her neck, and murmurs, ‘you’re divine’. 

 

Lara laughs, a rich, delighted sound, a sound that eases the old aches in Lillian’s heart, and her smile is the easiest its been in years. ‘There’s no need for such flattery, Lillian’, her lips brush against her neck, at a sensitive spot spot behind her ear, and she squirms when it tickles.  

 

‘It’s not flattery’, she says, twisting in an attempt to avoid Lara’s lips, ‘its just the truth’. She squirms, and grumbles, ‘Lara, stop that’. Lara laughs again, and nuzzles at the spot behind her ear, blows out a breath, follows the sensitive line down her neck to her clavicle, and Lillian shoves at her shoulder. ‘Lara!’

 

Lara sniggers, and presses a long, lingering kiss to the same sensitive place behind her ear, a different kind of pressure, warm and wet, sucking at her skin, that draws a moan from her, this time. ‘If you insist, Lily’. She leans back, hands pressing against the bed, and she tilts her head. Lillian reaches up to caresses the back of her neck, to run her hands over Lara’s incredibly short, tightly curled hair. ‘So, are you really sure about this?’

 

Lillian swallows, but her nod is sure. ‘I am’. 

 

Since Lara first mentioned, that very first time, that sex could be rough without being painful, Lillian had let herself think about such possibilities. For the first time in years, she let herself recall the very early, very few years with Lionel when she had enjoyed the things they’d done. That was the start. Numerous conversations later, and this is where Lillian finds herself, flat on her back, the sheets twisted and damp, the muscles in her legs still twitching from Lara’s extensive preparation, and Lara is smiling at her, a faint crease furrowing her brow. Lillian props herself up on her elbow, and kisses her again, slow and deep, until Lara sighs into her mouth. She pulls away, just enough to speak, and says, ‘I’m sure’. 

 

Lara kisses her, again and again, kisses over her jaw until she can kiss that sensitive place behind her ear again, and Lillian shivers. ‘Okay. You wait here’. 

 

Lillian flops back against the bed, and stretches her arms over her head. ‘Like I could really walk away’. 

 

‘You could, you know’. Lara’s voice sounds muffled, but the sincerity in her voice is clear. ‘At any time. You can ask me to stop’. 

 

Lillian smiles, and her heart aches, for the way Lara cares, for the way she reminds her, every moment of every day, that she is completely, and utterly different from the people who hurt her. She swallows, a little tightly, and mumbles, ‘I know, Lara’.  

 

And it is the strangest thing, really, that she does. 

 

The bed dips beside her, and Lara settles on her hips again. Her fingers cup her face, her thumbs brushing over her cheekbones, and she kisses her, a searing thing that sucks the breath from her lungs, and she inhales sharply through her nose. Lillian rests her hands on Lara’s waist, and lets them trail down towards her hips, and her breath catches when she feels the leather straps under her fingers. Lara leans forward, pressing against her, and the silicone is cool where it slides against her stomach. She shivers, and kisses Lara harder, heat pooling in her stomach, burning in her fingers. 

 

Lara pulls away, and sits up, and Lillian bites her lip before she opens her eyes. Her throat tightens, her heart thumping hard against her ribs, and she lies there, and just stares at Lara for a long moment. She traces the leather straps wrapped around Lara’s hips, black, standing out against her dark, warm skin, and she curls her fingers around the strap on resting against her stomach to warm it. She swallows, and her lips twitch. ‘I’m still not sure why you chose the purple’. 

 

Lara curves down to plant kisses over her collarbone, and mumbles, ‘come on, Lily, you saw me in there. Whatever my knowledge and experience of sex, I was not prepared for… the selection available. You know it was very different on my planet. It was a little… startling’. 

 

Lillian chuckles, running her fingers down Lara’s spine, draws her up to kiss her, and says, ‘it was endearing’. 

 

‘Oh?’ Lara presses her lips against her neck, opens her mouth, sucks at her skin, and Lillian groans, heat spiking in her belly again. Her tongue slides against her collarbone, and her teeth scrape against her skin. ‘And this?’ 

 

Lillian presses her fingers tighter against her back. ‘Good’, she gasps, ‘its good’. 

 

Lara chuckles, and continues kissing along her collarbone. Her hand curves against her breast, her thumb pressing at her still sensitive nipple, and she groans, little shocks of heat darting out from Lara’s touch, easily fanning the flames that had died down. She rises up, and nudges Lillian’s legs apart with her knees. She lies down, pressing against her, her skin just as warm and soft as it always is, and Lillian shudders. She lifts her knees, planting her feet against the bed, and squeezes Lara with her thighs. Lara rolls her hips, her legs pressing and sliding against her, where she’s slick and ready, and Lillian slides her hands over Lara’s ribs, cupping her breasts, trying to give, rather than simply take. Lara groans against her neck, and Lillian can hear herself breathing raggedly in the quiet. Lara’s hand squeezes her breast, drags down her stomach to settle between her legs, where her fingers press against her clit, and Lillian’s hips jerk. ‘Lara’, the woman’s name stutters over her tongue, becomes a drawn out moan when Lara slides two fingers inside her, and she gasps, ‘god, Lara’. 

 

Lara shifts down, her tongue running over her nipple, and she murmurs, ‘I just want to make sure you’re ready’. 

 

Lillian tries to laugh, but the sound breaks away against another moan as Lara’s fingers curl inside her. ‘I am, Lara’, she manages, her voice shaking, ‘I definitely am’. 

 

Lara hums against her breast, pursing her lips around her nipple, her teeth scrapping lightly over her skin, fingers pressing and working, and Lillian moans again. ‘Are you sure?’ Lara asks, sucking at the underside of her breast, her free hand still playing absently with her hair. 

 

Lillian smiles, affection aching in her chest, and says, ‘yes, Lara. I’m sure. You’ve seen to that’. 

 

Lara sits back, kneels between her legs, her knees pressing against the backs of her thighs, pressing her legs up and open. Lillian swallows, pressing her feet against the sheets, and Lara rests her elbow on her knee, her fingers still working almost lazily inside her. Lillian’s breath hitches, and she bits her lip to muffle a groan. ‘Lara…’ 

 

Lara smiles, and bends to kiss the inside of her thigh. She withdraws her fingers, and runs them along the length of her strap on, and Lillian shudders in anticipation. Lara leans down, kisses her deeply, and murmurs, soft and close to her lips, ‘you stop me, if it hurts at all. If its at all uncomfortable’. 

 

Lillian winds her arms around Lara’s neck, her heart caught somewhere in her throat, and mumbles, ‘we have talked about this, Lara’. 

 

Lara kisses a warm, wet line down her neck, before she leans up again, a hand on the mattress close to her ribs, and Lillian lets her hand drift to her shoulder. Lara reaches down between them, the backs of her fingers brushing over her, and Lillian swallows. ‘I know, Lily. It doesn’t hurt to repeat it’. 

 

Lillian stares up into Lara’s gold eyes, darkened like this, and smiles. The truth is that she loves the way Lara constantly checks with her, because its entirely different from anything she’s ever known, and it makes her comfortable. Lara kisses her cheek, and the tip of the strap on nudges against her. Lillian bites her lip, but she nods, and very slowly, Lara eases inside her. The breath shudders out of her, a trembling moan, her fingers digging into Lara’s shoulder, and Lara stops. She leans down, nudges at Lillian’s neck, kisses her pulse point, and murmurs, ‘Lily?’ 

 

Lillian is breathing raggedly, from heat and arousal and nerves, from the unfamiliar, even pressure, but it doesn’t hurt. Her heart is pounding against her ribs, and she swallows. ‘I’m alright’. 

 

Lara’s free hand strokes through her hair, and she says, ‘should I stop?’ 

 

Lillian shakes her head, curves her fingers against the back of Lara’s neck. ‘No, no, keep going’. 

 

Lara nudges her nose against her neck, and kisses her jaw. Her hips inch forward, almost excruciatingly slowly, opening her up, filling her, and Lillian shuts her eyes, a moan stuttering between her teeth, gripping Lara’s upper arms hard to ground herself, and she breathes, ‘Lara’. 

 

Lara’s hips press flush against her, and her lips brush against the corner of her mouth. ‘Lily?’ 

 

‘Lara’, her voice sounds high, like a whine. Lara’s hand slides underneath her back to press between her shoulder blades, to pull her up off the bed, and her free hand cups the back of her head. Lillian presses her face against Lara’s shoulder, and wraps her arms tightly around her, breathing shakily against her skin, grateful for Lara’s unwavering strength, and that she can hold her like this so easily. ‘Lara’. 

 

‘Are you alright?’ Lara’s fingers shift through her hair, gentle and soothing. ‘Lily?’ 

 

‘Yes’, she mumbles, ‘yes, I am’. 

 

‘How does it feel?’ 

 

Lillian swallows. She shifts, pressing her hips up, and back, and the heat in her belly coils and sparks. ‘Good. It feels good. Can you… can you move?’ 

 

Lara kisses her neck, and her hips shift back, and she moans again as the pressure shifts, and the heat stutters. ‘Like that?’ Lillian nods, and Lara releases her, so that she’s lying against the bed again, and plants her hands on either side of her ribs again. She leans down, and trails warm, wet kisses over her chest, and she keeps moving, that slow, shallow slide, and Lillian bites her lip, and whines. 

 

‘Lara…’ she groans, pressing her hips up, ‘I… more… Lara’. 

 

Lara’s hand curves around her breast, her fingers pinching at her nipple, her teeth scrapping against her breast, drawing sensitive skin into her mouth, hot and wet, and her hips roll forward, and Lillian arches up against her, and moans. She shifts her hand down Lara’s back, pressing against her ribs, and she presses her hips up, tries to express, with speech so beyond her, what she needs. Lara draws back, presses forward, a long, slow stroke, and she releases her breast and says, ‘like that?’ 

 

‘Yes’, she breathes, moans hitching in her throat, ‘like… like that’. 

 

Lara starts to move with purpose, her hips rolling against her, long, slow strokes, and Lara  leans up to kiss her, messy and wet, breaks away to trail the same hot kisses over her jaw, and she murmurs, ‘you’re so beautiful, Lily’. 

 

Lillian whimpers, overwhelmed by the slick, slow movement between her legs, by the heat Lara’s fingers trail over her skin, and she lifts her foot to hook her leg over Lara’s thigh, and the moan that tears from her throat is a ragged thing. ‘God, Lara’, she whimpers, high and needy, ‘Lara’. 

 

‘Is it good, Lily? Do you like it?’ 

 

Lillian smiles, a laugh stuttering over her tongue, still a little amused, and a little awed, at the way Lara constantly talks to her, checks in with her, praises her like such things are true, and Lillian is grateful for it in a way she can’t quite explain, because it keeps her here, it keeps her grounded, it stops her from slipping back into painful memories, it’s another anchor, along with the woman herself, and the press of her hands. ‘Yes’, she gasps, ‘Lara, god, yes’. 

 

The heat in her stomach is coiling and snapping, her toes curling, her arms shaking where she clutches at Lara, and she can taste the end, sparks jumping in her bones. Lara slides a hand under her back, draws her up off the bed again and into her arms, so that she’s sitting on her thighs, and her next thrust hits somewhere deep, and Lillian cries out as pleasure snaps through her. Lara stops instantly, their hips pressed tight together, and Lillian whimpers at the sudden stillness. ‘Lily?’ Lara leans back, her eyes wide and concerned in the soft light. ‘Are you alright?’ 

 

Lillian nods, a little frantically, her hair spilling into her face, and she cranes her neck down to kiss Lara, messy and desperate, her teeth digging into Lara’s bottom lip, and she rolls her hips forward, and gasps, ‘move, Lara, please’. 

 

Lara presses her hand against the small of her back, and rolls her hips up, short, sharper thrusts, and Lillian breaks the kiss, her head tilting back as another long, shuddering moan spills from her lips, and Lara’s tongue runs over her breasts, her teeth nipping faintly at her skin, and Lillian wraps her legs around Lara’s waist, clutches at the graceful slope of her shoulders, clings to the solid strength of her. The sounds rolling through her bedroom seem almost muffled for the blood pounding in her ears, the noises she’s making, high, whimpering cries, and try as she does, she can’t silence them. 

 

Lara slides her hand over her ribs, her fingers skimming over the side of her breast, down between them, and when her fingers slide against her clit, she says lowly, ‘that’s it, Lily, that’s it, let go’. 

 

Lillian comes apart with a cry, her back bowing, arching against Lara, and Lara holds her tight, to keep her from falling backwards, her hips working lazily, her mouth moving over her collarbone, and Lillian can feel the strength of the woman’s shoulders under her hands, the one, single point of reality against the tide of white hot light that floods her, explodes from the very marrow of her bones, surging outwards to twist underneath her skin, she shatters, and sags, and Lara is there to catch her. 

 

She curves her body down, pressing her face against Lara’s shoulder, her breathing heavy and shallow, loud in the sudden silence, and Lara’s hands run slowly up and down her back, her lips brushing against her neck, ‘Lily?’ 

 

Lillian groans softly, and mumbles, ‘I think we can call that a success’. 

 

Lara laughs, and she lays Lillian down against the sheets again carefully. Lillian stretches out as Lara rolls off her, unbuckling the strap on to drop it over the bed, before she rolls onto her stomach, and wraps her arm around her. Her fingers stroke gently down her ribs, and Lillian shuts her eyes, and sighs. Lara kisses her cheek, her neck, her shoulder, and murmurs, ‘too much?’ 

 

Lillian shakes her head, little shocks of pleasure still racing through her nerves, and hums. ‘Definitely not’. 

 

Lara chuckles, and kisses her temple. Lillian can feel her body relaxing into the sheets, sleep fuzzy at the edges of her consciousness, and it would be easy to drift off like this, with Lara warm beside her, and her fingers stroking through her hair, with her limbs heavy, and contentment pressing down on her, but she inhales sharply, and makes a deliberate effort to open her eyes. She looks up at Lara, and lifts her hand to wrap her arm around her neck. She pulls her down to kiss her, soft and quick, and says, ‘you make me very happy, Lara’. 

 

And its a strange, simple truth that still takes her by surprise these days, because after everything, after  _ everything _ , she is happy, and its a kind of intense feeling that she’s never really known before. 

 

Lara smiles, bright and warm and beautiful, and says, ‘you make me happy too, Lily’. 

 

And it is a wonderful thing, to believe her, without having to listen to the echo between her ribs. 

 

~ ~ ~

 

Lillian wakes in the early hours of the morning to the sun streaming through her windows, and the irrefutable knowledge that she loves Lara. 

 

Lara, who lies stretched out beside her, the sheets tangled around her legs, her dark skin dusted with gold where the sun touches her, her arm wrapped loosely around Lillian’s back, her breathing deep and even in sleep. Lillian watches her for a long moment, basking in the glow of her skin, in that realisation between her ribs, and then she leans over, and nudges at her shoulder. ‘Lara’, Lillian presses her nose against Lara’s neck, nuzzling at the hinge of her jaw, ‘wake up’. 

 

Lara makes a soft, protesting, grumbling sound, tightening her arm around her neck slightly. ‘Mhm?’

 

Lillian kisses her jaw, her cheek, soft, chaste kisses, her heart thumping in her chest, and she presses her forehead against Lara’s temple, and says, ‘I love you’. 

 

Lara cracks an eye open, and a slow smile creeps across her face. She chuckles, a soft, sleepy sound, and rolls over, tucking her face against Lillian’s neck, and sighs, ‘I know, Lily’. She kisses her pulse point, soft and gentle, her fingers sliding into her hair, and she murmurs, ‘I love you, too’. 

 

Lillian blinks, her heart thumping somewhere in her throat, and says, ‘you… you know?’ 

 

Lara nods, her lips trailing lazily over her neck. ‘I have been in love before, you know’, she says, her voice still raspy from sleep, her body heavy where it presses against her, ‘I know what it feels like’. She rests her hand over Lillian’s heart, and taps her fingers against her sternum, echoing the thump of her heart. ‘This feeling, Lily? I feel it too. And I’ve felt it before’. She chuckles, that same soft, tired sound. ‘Connected, remember?’ 

 

Lillian blinks. Her heart is sliding back down into its proper place, her heart rate calming, and the tension leaks from her shoulders. She blinks, and runs her fingers up and down Lara’s back absently. ‘Why didn’t you… why didn’t you say anything?’ 

 

Lara rolls onto her back again, a hand over her eyes, peering at Lillian through her eyelashes, and murmurs, ‘didn’t want to trap you’. 

 

Lillian props herself up on her elbow, and trails her fingers in a small circle over the soft skin beside Lara’s hip. Lara makes a face, grumbles, and when she opens her eyes more to look at her properly, Lillian says, ‘what do you mean, trap me?’ 

 

Lara heaves a sigh. She still looks half asleep, but her voice is clearer when she says, ‘you’ve been trapped in two terrible relationships, Lily. I won’t be like that. We’re connected, and that could feel like enough of a trap. I didn’t want you to feel like… like you had to love me’. 

 

Lillian feels that warm surge of affection rush up her throat, down her hands, settling in her chest, and she rolls over, draping her leg over Lara’s waist, and kisses her. Lara makes a sleepy, surprised sound against her lips, and she chuckles, when she pulls away. Lillian cups her face, and says softly, ‘I do love you, Lara’. 

 

And its true, an easy certainty that settles in her chest, something soft and warm, and nothing about it hurts her. Lara reaches up, runs her thumbs over her cheeks, up to the corners of her eyes, and shifts her fingers through her hair, settles her hands against her shoulders. ‘And I love you, Lily. I just wanted you to know it was a choice’. 

 

Lillian ducks her head to Lara’s shoulder, kisses her neck, and says quietly, ‘is that… are you alright with that?’ 

 

‘With what?’ Lara runs her fingers up and down her back, trailing patterns over her shoulders, and Lillian kisses her neck. 

 

‘With… loving me. You loved your husband. Is it… is it hard? To love again?’ 

 

Lara chuckles softly, and kisses her forehead. When she speaks, she sounds sleepy again, her voice low and raspy. ‘No, Lily. It’s easy, really. Loving has always been easy. It’s… well, it’s different. You’re not Jor. But I don’t love you any less’. 

 

And held close to Lara’s body, wrapped in the heavy warmth of sleep, with the echo of that affection and adoration in her chest, it is wonderfully easy to believe her. 

 

She runs her fingers lightly over Lara’s arm, and says, ‘I won’t ever ask you to forget him. Or anything, from your old life’. 

 

Lara chuckles, and she sounds half awake again. ‘I know, Lily’. Her hand drifts down to curve against her back, soft and heavy against the scars marring her skin, and she says quietly, ‘I won’t ever ask you to forget what happened to you, either’. 

 

Lillian shuts her eyes, and relaxes more completely into the bed, into Lara, and sighs, soft and content, and she wonders if she’s ever been so happy in her entire life. She has her daughter, and that relationship that her fear and crimes lost her, she has a family whose smiles are never forced, and she has Lara, this beautiful, wonderful, loving woman from the stars, and even if she still dreams of dead horrors and even if she still withdraws, even if her abuse will always be part of her, it does not rule her, anymore. 

 

Lara’s breathing has evened out, slow and deep, her fingers still against her skin, and Lillian nudges at her shoulder, and murmurs, ‘Lara?’

 

‘Mhm?’ 

 

‘I love you’. 

 

A chuckle, a kiss, soft and safe. An easy, endless repetition. ‘I love you, too’.

 

 

* * *

  
You are more than what was done to you.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> i really wanted to give lara attention here but it was a little hard to balance because this fic is very much meant to be about lillian's abuse survivor arch. anyway, i hope that you enjoyed, and feel free to lemme know what u think and stuff. 
> 
> and i hope that if any of you could relate to any of this, that it helps you in some way.


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